Book 4: Empire
by aylithe
Summary: Reupload of Empire, written from 2010-2011 originally for Inheritance Forums under the username BlackandWhiteDragons. Eragon and Saphira have been captured, but the Varden must march onwards in order to conquer Galbatorix, but they will need all the help they can get; they will need a champion; they will need a Rider. Slow start, funky speech marks and lots of filler chapters.
1. Chapter 1 -- Flight Over The Jiet

This was originally written from 9th May 2010 to 7th November 2011 (tight timing, I know) from when I was 13-14 years old. It appeared on Inheritance Forums and was the story of the month for September 2011. This is my first book length piece of fiction, so I understand it's not brilliant. Typos abound, and I won't fix them because this system is stupid for fixing stuff, and also I just don't care enough.

It can get a bit sadistic at times, but that can be skipped as it adds nothing to the actual story itself.

Thank you, and I hope my super bad fiction can still be enjoyed.

Also, Inheritance Forums, I miss you, please come back online.

-BWD/aylithe

1

**Flight over the Jiet**

_Starry  
starry night  
paint your palette blue and grey _

_- __**Vincent: Don MacLean**_

Water sailed beneath them. It glittered in the light from the dying sun as it set behind the mountains of the Spine far off to the west. Behind the landscape, a black stain sat on the horizon, the evidence of a city, but one in poor shape, one that had looked like it had recently gone through a war.

Eragon twisted around in the saddle and gazed at Feinster; fires still burned in the city, half of them were sapphire blue due to Saphira's flames which had caught the thatched roofs and set them alight. The steady beating of her wings put his mind at ease as he continued to look behind him.

_What is troubling you, little one? _a voice said in his mind. The voice was soft, female and concerned.

Eragon faced forwards again and placed his right hand on the dragon's neck. The sunlight caught her scales and the resulting effect was the air around them shimmered with every hue of blue which was likewise reflected off the water beneath them and Eragon's face.

_It is nothing, Saphira,_ Eragon replied to his dragon and leant forwards to hug her neck.

She hummed deep within her chest and Eragon smiled and closed his eyes slightly as her scales vibrated under his fingers. He breathed in deeply, enjoying his time alone with her.

_Something is troubling you, I can sense it. Please tell me, Eragon, _Saphira stated and Eragon opened his eyes a fraction of an inch.

He sent her an image of an elf with silver hair with grey eyes and a majestic golden dragon three times Saphira's size behind the Rider with a missing foreleg and deep golden eyes. Saphira's sadness echoed through him at the image and she began to keen softly under Eragon's hands.

_I miss them, _Eragon whispered softly with his mind.

Saphira's grief mounted with his own. _As do I, Eragon, _Saphira replied.

Eragon closed his eyes again, feelings from both him and his partner washing through his mind to an almost unbearable point.

Saphira roared and discharged a column of crackling sapphire blue fire towards the river below them. Eragon started and sat upright in the saddle, shocked out of his near stupor from h her ferocity. Saphira increased her speed, and Eragon grabbed the neck spike in front of him so he would not fall off, seeking the security. He was glad he had a second later, for Saphira suddenly threw her head back and her scales would have badly damaged the skin on his face.

Saphira mourned the dragon and Rider. _Curse that Galbatorix! I shall rip him and tear him to pieces and I shall then eradicate him from the world! Then I will throw the ashes of that egg-breaker-traitor to the bottom of the ocean and leave the fish to nibble on his bones!_

_But if you've burned him, he shall not have any—, _Eragon began with a small smile on his face but Saphira's annoyance raced across their link and Eragon stopped, one thing he had learnt was to never anger a dragon for the price may be an arm, a leg or the unfortunate's life.

_Oromis! Glaedr! _Saphira roared in her mind so loud that Eragon covered his ears with the volume as Saphira let out a second roar, painting the evening sky bright blue with her flames.

_Saphira!_ Eragon started and she calmed down as she felt Eragon's distress.

_Oh, Eragon, _Saphira moaned.

Eragon leaned forwards again to hug her neck. He felt the strong beating of her heart, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out and he smiled again.

_We are safe, Saphira, _Eragon murmured to her.

_For now at least, _Saphira corrected.

_For now, _he agreed.

Saphira hummed again and Eragon said to her, _I am glad I have you, partner-of-my-mind-and-heart._

_And I you, _said Saphira to him.

_I love you, Saphira,_ Eragon whispered, tightening his grip on Saphira's neck.

She hummed louder and her nostrils smoked leaving two thin trails behind her.

_Eragon, _Saphira said, _please loosen your grip._

He laughed and obliged. Saphira blew more smoke at him. Eragon coughed as some of it floated back towards him and he thumped Saphira's shoulder, she only laughed at him. Eragon chuckled as well and he looked over his shoulder once more to see Saphira's saddle bags, his thoughts had again returned to his late masters, one of which was only and arms length away.

_I hope Glaedr's alright,_ Eragon murmured to Saphira and she grunted in response. He twisted around in the saddle and fumbled at the buckle on one of the saddle bags and after a few seconds, he lifted the flap ever so slightly to look at the glowing jewel in the bag.

It was about a foot in width and it pulsed with a dull golden light. It was like a giant golden jewel and Eragon extended his hand to touch the surface of Glaedr's Eldunarí.

_Don't, _Saphira growled at him as she read his thoughts, _leave him be, for he is in mourning for his Rider._

_He has said nothing for three days now, _Eragon said.

_His grief is great, little one, as you said not three days ago, it will take a long time, if ever, that he will recover from the shock of losing Oromis. Eragon, please leave Glaedr be, _Saphira said gently.

Eragon sighed and closed the saddle bag again, once more hiding the golden Eldunarí.

A flock of birds flew past Saphira's muzzle and she snapped at them playfully and they squeaked and chirped, frightened at the huge dragon and her glistening fangs which were as long as Eragon's forearm. She caught two of the swallows in her teeth and she crunched down on them, Eragon winced as the two little birds met their ends in Saphira's jaws and their life force was extinguished.

_Bah! Horrid little feather balls! They get stuck in my teeth and they don't feel so good in my stomach, any way, there's hardly any meat on the things, they're not worth eating,_ Saphira said, she opened her jaws and the two tiny bodies fell out of her mouth and splashed into the Jiet River. Eragon laughed at Saphira and she growled her annoyance at him.

_It's not funny, Eragon! _Saphira snapped.

Eragon didn't listen, he just laughed harder.

Saphira shook her head and flipped upside-down and Eragon only just managed to grab onto the neck spike in front of him to keep him falling into the Jiet River.

_"Saphira!" _Eragon shouted, both with his tongue and thoughts.

Saphira's only reply was to laugh at Eragon in her own deep and throaty way as he desperately pounded on her shoulder. After Eragon's pleas became desperate, she flipped upright and Eragon welcomed the return of gravity.

_You know I don't like that! _Eragon snapped at her and she continued to laugh at him. _It's not funny, Saphira, _he grumbled, her laughter becoming louder and louder.

_Do you want to return to the Varden tonight or shall we spend it alone? _Saphira asked after a few minutes.

Eragon considered her question. _Let's spend the night alone, _Eragon replied and Saphira grunted her approval. _ But for now, let us fly! _Eragon yelled.

She angled her body towards the heavens and flapped twice, fast to gain altitude and the clouds rushed towards the two of them.

Eragon shut his eyes as he and Saphira passed through the clouds and when she burst out the other side and Eragon gasped. The night had crept in while he and Saphira had been flying above the Jiet River. The moon was full and was huge, so big that Saphira was a small pinprick against it; it admitted a silvery sheen around its edge and cast light on the clouds. Saphira's scales turned silvery white and Eragon gaped at the stars, so clear and close he felt that he could touch them. A cool breeze blew at them from behind and Saphira gave up flapping and merely glided upon silent wings, occasionally beating them to maintain her altitude.

_We truly are the Lords of the Skies now,_ Eragon said, stretching out his hand as if he could touch the ceiling of the world, the gedwëy ignasia appearing milky white in the moonlight.

_It is beautiful, _Saphira whispered to Eragon and he agreed with her.

_It truly is. _

Saphira hummed her satisfaction and they glided between the clouds, the moon and the stars, they were where they belonged. Glaedr's Eldunarí flared and emitted a little more light and Eragon gradually fell into his waking dreams on Saphira's back, the wind whistling in his ears and the cool night air blowing his hair back. Eragon closed his eyes and Saphira continued to glide.


	2. Chapter 2 -- The Varden

2

**The Varden**

_About ten paces downstream, the trees opened into a clearing. Torak smelt pine-smoke and fresh blood. He saw four big reindeer-hide shelters unlike any he'd seen, and a bewildering number of people: all hard at work and yet unaware of him. _

_– __**Wolf Brother: Michelle Paver**_

W

_ake, little one._

Eragon opened his eyes to find himself strapped to the saddle on Saphira's back in the middle of a large glade. His neck hurt and his back was stiff as a result after sleeping on Saphira.

_Good morning, Saphira. _She puffed smoke at him as he jumped down from her back and he swore quietly under his breath as he tripped on a small rock and fell forwards on to his hands. His stiff back protested as he straightened up and he groaned.

Eragon flexed his shoulders and stretched and soon the aches vanished, Saphira stared at him with sparkling sapphire eyes.

_Now, I must hunt. _She crouched, raised her wings and took off, her claws leaving deep gauges in the earth and the force of her wings caused nearby trees to creek and groan, scattering leaves which showed slight hints of brown, signs that it was nearly autumn in Alagaësia.

_Nearly one year, _Eragon thought as he looked the leaves. _Nearly one year since all of this began, nearly one year since Arya had sent the egg to me by mistake_. He walked over to a nearby spring and removed his tunic and started to work his way through the poses of the third level of the Rimgar, a series of exercises invented by the elves. Soon Eragon was panting and covered in a sheen of sweat.

After half an hour of the Rimgar, he washed in the spring and drew Brisingr and practiced his swordsmanship for ten more minutes until Saphira return, her belly full. She landed, her leg muscles rippling as she absorbed the force of her impact with the ground, her wings raised above her head. She slowly folded them so they lay against her back and Eragon walked over to her and started to scratch her behind the flap of her left ear, Saphira began to hum deep within her chest.

_Saphira, _Eragon murmured to her.

_Eragon._

_Should we return to the Varden now? We were gone for the night and they might be getting anxious now._

_Yes, we should return._

He climbed on to Saphira and she took off again while Eragon strapped himself into the saddle. With his keen vision, Eragon could make out the Varden's camp next to Feinster. The camp was nearing a mile across and the smoke from many fires spiralled into the air, the closer Eragon and Saphira approached, the louder the camp became.

Shouts echoed through the camp as Eragon and Saphira soared over head. The Urgal camp was now in view, situated slightly behind the Varden camp with tents made of animal hide.

Saphira swerved and flared her wings as she came into land. Eragon jumped off Saphira twelve feet from the ground and straightened up again as Saphira folded her wings and slumped down.

Eragon looked up and saw the twelve elves that Islanzadí had sent to protect him and Saphira. The lead elf, who was covered in blue-black fur stepped forwards and twisted his hand over his chest.

"Greetings, Shadeslayer," he purred, smiling and showing fangs which had been sharpened like a wolf's, his eyes glittering.

"Greetings, Blödhgram," Eragon replied and he too twisted his right hand over his chest.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," Blödhgram said, touching the first two fingers on his right hand to his lips.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr," Eragon replied.

Blödhgram nodded.

"Nasuada requests an audience with you, Shadeslayer," he purred and Eragon nodded, striding into his tent, leaving the clutter of the Varden's camp between him and a layer of canvas. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes slightly, stretching his mind out in different directions and surveyed the camp.

Some minds felt the touch and slammed up barriers immediately but he was searching for one in particular and his mind wondered over towards the section of the camp in which the villagers of Carvahall were staying. He found the man he was looking for and thought, _Roran. _

Eragon felt the man jump and he hurriedly slammed up barrier around his consciousness about the love for his wife, Katrina. Eragon raised his eyebrows and forced the man to become still. _Nice defences, try to use them on the enemy, it's me you twit, _Eragon said. Roran relax and slowly lowered his barriers.

_Eragon, I came looking for you last night but I couldn't find you. Anyhow, Nasuada-_

_I know, _Eragon said, _Blödhgram told me. When is the meeting?_

_Two hours past noon, all the commanders of all races must be present at Nasuada's command tent at that time. I'm going to represent Carvahall._

_Fine, see you later._

Eragon withdrew from Roran's mind and went out of his tent to find something to eat and his guards trailed behind him, like silent shadows lurking between the tents.

Eragon went to the cooks tent and eat a quick breakfast of bread, vegetables and fruit and willed away his time until midday when he eat another meal and went for a small flight with Saphira for the last two hours until he was to meet Nasuada. Saphira dived in and out of clouds and spiralled around thousands of feet above the Varden and Urgal's camps.

When Eragon had twenty minutes until his meeting with Nasuada, he and Saphira went to Eragon's tent where he changed his shirt and belted on Brisingr with the belt of Beloth the Wise and he then threaded his way between the tents, Blödhgram and his guards once again stalking their way between the tents. They came up to Nasuada's command pavilion, the entrance flap guarded by six of the Nighthawks, Nasuada's guards, two were Urgals, two were human and two were dwarves.

The lead Urgal's nostrils flared as Eragon approached the pavilion.

"Eragon Shadeslayer requests an audience with you," he grunted.

"Send him in," came the reply and the guards let him pass. Eragon entered the tent just as Saphira inserted her head through the back wall where a tent flap had been rolled up so she could take part in the going ons.

Nasuada was dressed in a brilliant orange dress which the sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows, shows white linen bandages on both of her forearms due to the Trial of the Long Knives. On her left stood Roran with his hammer stuck in his belt and his beard had been neatly trimmed and freshly washed. On Nasuada's other side stood a female elf with long black hair at which Eragon could just glimpse her ears which were tapped on the ends. A thin elegant sword was on her left hip and she was wearing leather leggings with a soft cotton top.

She glanced around as Eragon entered the tent with her slanted green eyes.

"Arya," Eragon said, touching his fingers to his lips "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Arya smiled and she too touched her lips. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarínya ono varda," Eragon said the third line.

"Ah, Eragon," Nasuada said, smiling at him.

Roran strode over and embraced his cousin, thumping him on the back and Eragon did the same.

"Blast you, Eragon, no one knew where you and Saphira had run off to last night, Katrina was fretting with worry that that red dragon and his blasted Rider had caught you and that you were kneeling in front of the King himself. Never do that again," Roran said and he groaned slightly as Eragon thumped him hard on his back. "Careful! Remember that I ain't as strong as an elf! Watch yer strength."

"Sorry!" Eragon grinned and his smile faltered a fraction as he sensed a twisted and dark mind lurking behind Nasuada's skirts and his suspicions were confirmed as a face with startling violet eyes peered around Nasuada. Her hair shifted slightly and revealed a bright silver star on her brow like Eragon's gedwëy ignasia. She gave a small sweet smile and Eragon inclined his head slightly.

"Greetings, Shadeslayer," Elva mouthed at him and Eragon blinked in response.

"Commander Jörmundur requests an entrance, Lady Nightstalker!" the Urgal bellowed again.

"Let him enter," Nasuada sighed and the Varden's second in command, Jörmundur strode into the tent and nodded at Nasuada and he went to sit down at an oaken table in the centre of the tent.

As soon as he sat down, the Urgal announced the arrival of King Orrin and he entered the pavilion.

"Nasuada. Arya. Eragon. Saphira. Roran. Jörmundur," Orrin said, bowing slightly when he said each of their names. Each of them bowed in return and Saphira raised her head off the floor and nodded as Orrin said her name. "Are we waiting for anyone else since I seem to be the last to arrive?"

"Yes, yes. Let us begin," Nasuada said and gestured towards the table. They all sat. 'We are here to discuss how the Varden will move towards Urû'baen and how we shall capture both of Belatona and Dras-Leona as well as the up-coming winter.' Nasuada started and Eragon's mind began to wonder.

_Saphira, I think we should go to Gil'ead to pay our last respects to Oromis and Glaedr, before they are buried._

_Yes, but Glaedr will be burned as is customary of the dragons and his ashes scattered on the winds._

_When do you think we should go?_

_I would say sometime soon when the Varden would have settled down for the winter._

_But when will the Varden settle for winter?_

_Listen to Nasuada and then you might know. Ask her and I'm sure she would let us, for they were our mentors._

Eragon stretched out as he listened to Nasuada continue discussing battle tactics, food supplies and the best way to take the two cities.

Eragon occasionally gave his opinion and continued to talk to Saphira and discuss things with the others and after three hours of this, they were dismissed and Eragon approached Nasuada.

"Nasuada, as you know, our teachers have just died and Saphira and I would like to request to go and pay our last respects, as I am sure you will understand."

Nasuada looked at Eragon for a while, contemplating his request and she finally said, "Of course Eragon, they were your teachers and you may leave for Gil'ead in three days, I shall then give you one week to return to the Varden afterwards."

Eragon inclined his head and Saphira withdrew hers from the tent flap and Eragon met her outside.

_Three days, Saphira, then we have one week to return to the Varden._

Eragon climbed on to Saphira's back and she took off. They glided in the night and after a few hours, they returned to the Varden which smelt of cooking meat, herbs and spices and boomed with men's laughter, their shouts for ale and their stories of their heroics.

Eragon made his way towards the kitchens and collected his dinner and sat with the villagers of Carvahall where they eat, drank, laughed and teased eachother while Saphira hovered around the edges, happily crunching on three deer carcasses.

Eragon retired soon after he had finished his dinner and returned to his tent where he lay on his cot and slowly drifted into his waking dreams.


	3. Chapter 3 -- Murtagh

3

**Murtagh**

_'I name you Odin, son of Bór,' _

**_– Runemarks: Joanne Harris_**

Murtagh cringed as Galbatorix rose to his full height, glaring down at the young Rider.

"Weakling," Galbatorix snarled at him. "Why did you not kill Oromis and Glaedr, why did I have to do it for you when you refused not too? You are a coward." He flicked his wrist and muttered something in the ancient language and Murtagh went flying across the room, slamming into one of the many ribbed pillars made of black marble which held up the roof to Galbatorix's throne room. His head hit the stone and lights flashed in front of his eyes as his head connected with the pillar, making a sickening _crack! _Murtagh slumped on the cold floor and far away, he heard a roar of pain.

_Thorn,_ Murtagh thought and he curled into a ball. It suddenly crossed his mind that this was the position that Eragon had adapted when he and Murtagh had clashed over on the Burning Plains. But now Galbatorix stood over him, a look of fury in his black eyes.

"Kveykva!" Galbatorix spat, pointing his left index finger at Murtagh. The gedwëy ignasia glowed white hot on his left palm as black lightning shot out of his finger and leapt onto Murtagh. Murtagh screamed and screamed and Thorn roared and roared his pain in the distance. Murtagh squinted and threw Galbatorix a look of hate, loathing and anger and his feels doubled as he saw a look of enjoyment cross Galbatorix's face and his steely eyes glinted.

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had come and Murtagh shuddered and lay still, sobbing and swearing on the floor at which he received another blast of lightning and Galbatorix's castle echoed with the young man's screams and the whimpering of a dragon.

Once again it stopped.

"Get up," Galbatorix spat but Murtagh did not move. "I said; get up _Du Wydra abr Zar'roc_."

Murtagh cringed and got up as Galbatorix invoked his true name, blood trickling into his hair and down the back of his neck. 'Better,' Galbatorix said smoothly and as soon as he looked away from Murtagh, Murtagh drew Zar'roc and threw it with all his strength at the Dark King. He swiftly turned around and brought his hands together with the speed of an elf and grasped Zar'roc's quivering red blade which glowed in the fire light from the brackets mounted on the walls. His face was perfectly calm as he slowly lowered the sword to look at Murtagh who had gone white.

"Impressive, impressive, but you have just caused yourself an unnecessary amount of pain." Nothing happened for two seconds and Galbatorix launched his consciousness towards Murtagh's and shattered his strong walls. Murtagh yelled as his head exploded with fire and Galbatorix laughed as he felt Murtagh's feeble attempts to push him out and increased the ferocity of the mental assault and Murtagh's yells increased in volume. Thorn writhed in pain as Galbatorix sent one more wave of pain convulsing through Murtagh's mind, then exited, his face not betraying what had happened and had remained calm through the whole episode.

Murtagh collapsed on to all fours, sobs raking his body and his tears splashing onto the floor, the sounds of his cries echoing throughout the throne room.

Galbatorix slowly sank into his throne, all the while watching the young man on the floor in the middle of his throne room.

"Salcarthar!" Galbatorix called and a man sidled towards the twisted King and quickly bowed before his master and kissing the fat rings on his right hand.

"Yes, my Lord?" he whispered whist looking up at Galbatorix through his lashes.

"You know what to do with our young Rider here. Thirty lashes for failing in his mission and another twenty for throwing his sword at me, then lock him away and drug him," Galbatorix said smoothly.

Salcarthar nodded quickly and then pointed his hand at Murtagh and he muttered. "Rïsa,"

Murtagh's limp body lifted half a foot off the ground and Salcarthar kicked him before leading him away. Murtagh barely registered the pain in his side as Salcarthar levitated him out of the throne room; he knew he was going to the dungeons but he didn't care, at least he was getting away from Galbatorix and that in itself was a blessing to his mind.

His body and mind still ached from the punishments that Galbatorix had inflicted upon him and he howled inside, he felt that he might explode from all of that anger building up inside him, the man had snatched away his freedom, his love and his friends from him.

_No, he's not a man; he's a twisted, evil demon! _Murtagh thought and Thorn agreed with him on that thought.

_Oh, Thorn, my dragon, I should not have done that, I do not wish to cause you more pain than you have already endured._

_Murtagh, he will make Shruikan torture me now and then he will force me to grow again, I can feel it in my very bones Murtagh. We will be in for a long night of torture._

Murtagh knew that there was truth in Thorn's words and dread crossed his mind which Thorn echoed.

Murtagh groaned and rolled over at which Salcarthar kicked him in the ribs again, Murtagh heard him mutter, "Dragon Rider? People call him a _Dragon Rider_?"

Murtagh barely noticed as he was worried, so worried about what was going to happen to Thorn.

* * *

**THORN** WHIMPERED AS Shruikan bit into his flank once again, there was regret in the black dragon's eyes and hatred, not hatred towards Thorn, he knew that, but towards Galbatorix, at what the evil-dark-thoughts-twisted-King was making him do.

_Forgive me, Thorn, Murtagh, _Shruikan whispered to Thorn and through him, Murtagh and once again, Shruikan bit Thorn on his right hind leg and the now familiar-hurting-pain pierced Thorn's leg as he again howled and withered in Shruikan's grasp.

Thorn collapsed on to the cold-hard-smooth-marble floor of the chamber in which he and Shruikan slept, shaking and whimpering as the black dragon towered over him and Thorn wrapped his too-short-not-whole-anymore tail which shinning-golden-scales-Glaedr had bitten around his body and he cowered and tried to crawl away from Shruikan's shinning-white-dagger-sharp-claws as they pinned Thorn's chest against the ground, drawing hot drops of steaming blood on to the floor. Shruikan swiped at Thorn with his claws and Thorn howled as they tore into his flesh.

_Forgive me, Thorn, _Shruikan said softly. _Forgive me._


	4. Chapter 4 -- Unpleasant Surprises

4

**Unpleasant Surprises**

_But Philotas muttered, "Father says the Persians will try to stop us soon. They're probably waiting around the next bend."_

_The others laughed and said the Persians were obviously too scared to face us. _

_But Philotas was right this time. _

**_– I am the Great Horse: Katherine Roberts_**

Saphira's tongue darted out of her mouth to taste the scents in the air of the rebellious-people-Varden's camp. She stretched and arched her back like a cat's, opening her jaws to their fullest extent to show her glittering white teeth, her claws leaving long gauges in the earth, the tip of her tail reaching skywards.

She straightened up and extended her wings which expanded over many of the cloth-cave-tents, the lazy-one-eyed-sun shining through the thin-delicate-wing-membranes and illuminating all of the slender veins that pulsed inside them. Saphira shook her head and neck and the sunlight cast reflections of her shining-hard-blue-scales which showered the Varden's tents with blue-lights-of-every-shade in every direction.

Saphira opened her mind to the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon to find him aware in his awake-sleep. Eragon opened his eyes at her soft touch and stretched his mind towards hers so their thoughts washed over the other's like warm water.

_Good morning, little one,_ Saphira said as Eragon sat up on his movable-resting-place-cot.

_Good morning, Saphira,_ he replied and yawned, then walked out of his cloth-cave-tent and came over to Saphira and rubbed her muzzle. She blew smoke in his face and he coughed and lightly hit Saphira on her nose. She started to laugh at Eragon as he hugged her face and her laughter turned into a hum.

Saphira saw blue-black-wolf-haired-Blödhgram slink out of the nearby tents with the eleven other elves close behind him.

_ Do you wish to fly with me before the rest of the Varden wake up?_ Saphira asked Eragon and he nodded and ran over to her side and leapt lightly from her left leg up to the place where the itching-leather-Eragon-patch-saddle normally rested in the junction where her neck and shoulders met so Eragon sat bare back on her, just the way she liked it.

_Go!_ Eragon shouted and Saphira leapt into the cool-slightly-damp-morning air, unfurling her wings quickly. She flapped three times, making the cloth-cave-tents shake and sway as she gained height, Eragon clutching on to the neck spike in front of him.

_This is where we belong,_ Eragon murmured and Saphira hummed her agreement as she spiralled upwards towards the cold-fluffy-white-clouds which were stained with pink in the morning sunshine.

_Yes, we are indeed the Lords of the Skies, nothing can stop us!_

_Nothing,_ Eragon agreed. _You are truly the Queen of the Skies._

Saphira wriggled in delight at Eragon's response and she felt pride bloom in her chest and she roared, letting the whole of Alagaësia know that nothing could stop her, Saphira, daughter of Vervada and Iormûngr, and the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart Eragon, her Rider and her companion!  
An eagle flew past them and Saphira shot a jet of fire at it. It screeched as it was consumed by the bright blue fire and Eragon yelped for she knew that he had felt its life-living-force suddenly go. It fell, smoking to the earth, the fire still eating at its body.

_You know I don't like that,_ Eragon said quietly.

_I am a dragon, and that is my nature Eragon; you cannot hold back my nature,_ Saphira replied smoothly and she felt Eragon feel ashamed through their connection. Saphira was smug at that thought for reasons that she couldn't fathom.

She soared into the higher layer of clouds and bright sunshine greeted her and Eragon. Saphira growled and averted her gaze from the bright-blinding-rays of light which the bright-high-sun emitted. The sun was blinding her eyes so Saphira executed a tight backwards loop and plunged straight down into towards the ground, Eragon yelled and whooped and Saphira let out a roar and sprayed a jet of fire out of her mouth which streamed over the back of her head and which was parted around Eragon as his invisible-shields bent the fire around them.

To the left of Saphira was the Burning Plains and Saphira could just make out the plateau where she and the red-shrike-dragon-Thorn met and fought for the first time and where the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon battled the once-kind-now-twisted-hatchling-Murtagh and he had stolen red-glitter-Rhunön-made-sword-Zar'roc from Eragon and twisted-thoughts-Murtagh had told Eragon that his father was traitor-Rider-Morzan. Saphira's heart and yearned when she saw how Murtagh's words tormented Eragon, she wished that she could tell him the truth, that Murtagh, unknown to him, had been lying.

The wind roared past Saphira's ears and she tasted the air and she detected something wrong, it wasn't sweet and cool as it was supposed to be, but smoky. They were some miles east of the Varden and there was no breeze or wind coming in the direction from the Varden.  
_ Something's wrong, Eragon,_ Saphira said and she told Eragon of the smell that she had detected.

_Yes, there shouldn't be smoke here, not unless there is a forest fire or-_

_Several campfires. __Saphira finished the sentence for him._

She glided on silent wings, following the nice-woody-smoke scent. Eragon was silent and Saphira continued to flap now and again. She wondered what was causing the smell. She soared around a small hill and pulled up short and immediately turned around and looped back the way she had come.

_ Saphira! What...?_ Eragon started but she sent him and image of what she had seen.

Galbatorix's soldiers had made camp not three leagues from the Varden and their camp was even bigger than the rebel-Varden-camp. Smoke hung over the camp and Saphira could just make out the evil-twisted-thoughts-king's soldiers, dressed in their shining-metal-scales-armour with their red tunics. All were carrying a weapon of some kind, sharp-shining-stick-swords, spiked-swing-ball-maces, iron-ended-sharp-throwing-spears and Roran-weapon-hammers.

_We must tell Nasuada of this, and as soon as we get back to the Varden,_ Eragon said quickly and Saphira agreed with him in an instant and she sped back towards the Varden as fast as she could, as if she were flying to Farthen Dûr again.

_Do you think they saw us?_ Eragon asked Saphira.

_I do not know, little one, I do not know. Let us pray that they didn't and that they are still unaware of our spotting of them,_ Saphira replied, the cold-claw-of-fear gripping her belly as she flew.


	5. Chapter 5 -- Plans

5

**Plans**

_"Eragon." She reached out and grasped his shoulder, and almost by accident, he found himself holding her in his arms. _

_– **Christopher Paolini: Brisingr **_

Arya's eyes snapped open as she returned to the world from her waking dreams as her tent shook violently and a wind howled outside the canvas walls, but suddenly stopped as soon as it had come. She guessed that it must have been the beating of Saphira gargantuan wings which caused the wind outside. Arya got up off her cot and walked outside of her tent and with her keen elven eyes; she could see Saphira flying above the Varden's tents in the dawn, making her raven black hair shine in the sun's rays.

Saphira executed a tight loop by leaning into the right and slightly bending her wing in and Arya could just make out a small figure on her back between the two neck spikes.

She wondered why Eragon was up and flying so early in the day with Saphira as she flared her wings to slow down of the other side of the camp next to Nasuada's command pavilion. Eragon jumped off Saphira's back fifteen feet from the ground and quickly explained something to Nasuada's current shift of her Nighthawk guards. They soon let him enter as Saphira folded her wings in close to her body.

Arya was curious so she set off at a light run towards Nasuada's pavilion and arrived at the tent a couple of minutes later. The lead Urgal glowered at her slightly and then knocked on the crossbeam on top of the door.

"Arya Shadeslayer requests an audience Lady Nightstalker!"

Arya fidgeted when the Urgal said her name and added 'Shadeslayer' on the end, she was still getting used to the title and she imagined this was what Eragon would had felt like after he had killed Durza in Farthen Dûr.

"Let her enter," the weary voice of Nasuada replied and Arya pushed past the Nighthawks and strode into the tent to find Nasuada and Eragon in an urgent discussion, and much to her surprise, she was suddenly looking at Eragon as he turned his face towards her and the early morning sunlight from outside of the pavilion through the part where Saphira normally inserted her head, how the light caught his hair and the light turned his soft brown eyes into an ambry shade.

She blinked a few times and shook her head and was grateful when Saphira pushed in her head and nearly cut off the flow of light entering.

"Arya?" Nasuada asked and Arya snapped back to reality.

"Oh, um...why did Eragon ask this meeting of you so early, Nasuada?" Arya stuttered, still looking at Eragon whose face was reflecting the light cast by Saphira's scales. When Arya asked this question, Nasuada frowned slightly.

"Eragon and Saphira have just returned from a morning flight and they bare rather bad news, there is a camp belonging to the Empire about halfway between the Jiet River and the Burning Plains," Nasuada said gravely.

"How big...?" Arya started but Saphira sent her an image of what she and Eragon had seen, the picture was slightly discoloured due to Saphira's sight, the blue showing more than the reds and greens, the smells stronger in her nose and sounds more prominent. Arya's heart caught in her chest when she saw how big it was, how many more soldiers there were compared to the Varden, the mist covering the camp made it hard to judge the numbers of the Empire's soldiers.

The image vanished as Saphira withdrew partly from Arya's mind and she then fixed her sparkling sapphire blue eyes on Nasuada who had also seen the image.

"Thank you, Saphira, Eragon for showing us this and it is indeed fortunate that you two decided to go flying this morning, otherwise we would have been caught completely unaware of this new threat Galbatorix has sent to us." She inclined her head in Eragon's, and then Saphira's direction.

Eragon returned the bow and Saphira blew smoke from her nostrils in reply. Nasuada turned her eyes then to Arya.

"You should contact your mother, Shadeslayer, and tell her of the going ons her with the Varden."Arya bowed to Nasuada then she, Eragon and Saphira took their leave.

"Is the Empire amassing near the Burning Plains?" Arya asked and Eragon nodded stiffly. Without meaning to, she marvelled at how the sun light caught his now pale skin, how the light made his hair a slightly lighter shade of brown as he jerked his head with inhuman speed.

They walked together to their tents since they were near eachother for she preferred to stay with the elves that had come to protect Eragon and Saphira and they had to be near Eragon. Saphira walked behind them, swinging her tail and she knocked over a tent. Arya could suddenly hear alot of shouting, swearing and scuffling about as the tent collapsed.

_Oops, _Saphira said to Eragon and Arya and they both smiled and laughed their tinkling laugh as they listened to the man's curses and collective choice of interesting words. They stood and listened to the man and Eragon sighed, the pointed at the mass of canvas and said "Rïsa!" and the tent reconstructed itself and the angry voice stopped. The man poked his head out of the tent and started when he saw Saphira towering above him then his eyes rested on Eragon who still had his hand pointed at the tent and he staggered slightly as the magic took its toll. Arya rested her hand on his back and energy flowed from her body into Eragon's and he stood up straighter.

"Thank you, Shadeslayers! Thank you for fixing my tent!"

Eragon waved his hand, still tried from the use of magic and the man, beaming now, when back inside.

"Thank you, Arya," Eragon said and Arya flushed, grateful that Eragon was looking at the ground.

"Eragon, do you think that, _they_ are there?" Arya asked and she could see Eragon's face whiten, he knew who _they_ were.

"I don't think so, Murtagh and Thorn would have had to return to Urû'baen, Galbatorix would have forced them to do so, he would probably have punished them, then Thorn had the injury which Glaedr dealt to him, so he is missing the last little bit of his tail and I doubt that they could return to Urû'baen, be tortured, have Thorn attend to his hurt and then fly to Surda in five days," Eragon finished, by the end he had tears in his eyes. Arya knew Oromis and Glaedr's deaths had hit Eragon and Saphira hard and at the mention of the golden dragon, Arya's eyes began to water.

"Oromis was like a father to me, Eragon, I know how you feel. I am disturbed by their deaths as well, it is like losing my father again, he was always there for me and now he's just...gone." Arya finished in a small voice, then a sob raked her body and the next thing she knew was that she was crying freely on to Eragon's shoulder and he too was crying, he was hugging her and stroking her hair, murmuring to her in the ancient language that everything would be alright.

Arya was grateful for his touch, his emotions; she knew he felt like what she was feeling, after losing so much. She had lost Glenwing and Fäolin, her father, Brom and now, Oromis and Glaedr had joined her loved ones in the void.

She knew Eragon was thinking about his uncle, Brom, the lost villagers of Carvahall, the settling itself, his mother, Selena who he never knew. And Murtagh, alive yet also dead, for he and his red dragon were the King's slaves, his puppets, and of course, the most resent, Oromis and Glaedr, his and Saphira's tutors.

Saphira howled to the skies and there were several angry shouts as her cry woke nearly all of the Varden. A baby started to cry but Arya ignored them all, so lost was she in her grief, and Eragon and Saphira in theirs.

She sobbed once more then looked up to find Eragon looking at her, she knew her eyes were red, but she made no attempt to wipe the tears away.

"Eragon! Eragon! Please, I don't want to lose you as well!" Arya sobbed and she broke down again, her sobs loud and even though she was crying her heart out, she knew that her sobs sounded beautiful to the Varden's ears.

"Arya, Arya, Arya," Eragon murmured, his finger tracing her left jaw and tilting her face up so the sun warned Arya's face, her tear tracks glistening in the sun's rays and Eragon's worried face, blinking back tears of his own.

She hugged Eragon fiercely and he returned her hug, reluctantly though and they lay in each other's arms, gently rocking back and forth as the camp started to wake.

"Your mother, will you send your message now?" Eragon asked sometime later as the sun still continued to climb in the sky. Arya sniffed and nodded then held out her hand and, after a second's pause, Eragon entwined his fingers with hers and they walk off together, through the gates of the Varden's camp. Their pace quickened and they began to run, faster than horses, their strides long and light and appeared to be flying rather than running.

Arya stopped at a cluster of trees soon after and Eragon, silent as the wind, pulled up beside her, his boots making dust clouds appear by his feet as he trod. Arya sat sown on a patch of grass and sniffed, wiping her nose, and then she looked up at Eragon, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Eragon knelt down beside her and they sat next to eachother for a long time, watching the sun as it followed its path across the morning sky, Saphira circled above and every now and again, she would roar her grief.

She roared again and released a jet of bright blue fire and far away, another dragon roared in pain.


	6. Chapter 6 -- Punishments

6

**Punishments**

_Bowing to the Dralia's call,_

_Deer that never trip or fall,_

_Discipline will set us free,_

_We swear eternal loyalty. _

_– **Fire Bringer: David Clement-Davis**_

Murtagh opened his eyes so a hairline crack of light could be seen under a door. As he watched, a pair of studded boots walked past the boor, blocking some parts of the light. He had an idea about where he was but he tried to stretch out his mind to see whether if anyone else was in the room, and to contact Thorn.

_Thorn! _Murtagh cried out and the now familiar vast consciousness of his dragon raced into his mind. Murtagh gasped as new hurts entered his body for he could suddenly feel Thorn's injuries as well as his own, the result was that his whole body seemed to hurt. From what he could tell, Thorn had received many bites and scrapes from Shruikan and his muscles were aching.

_Thorn! What...?_ Murtagh started and Thorn cut him off.

_I am bigger than before, at least ten feet longer. That and Shruikan was forced to bite me, burn me and claw at me._

Murtagh choked when he heard what had happened and tried to stand up and yelled in pain as his back exploded with even more reminders of his injuries. Heavy iron clattered against the stone floor and Murtagh jumped up and his ankles felt heavier than they should have and Murtagh's suspicions were confirmed about where he was.

He jumped when someone banged on his cell door and yelled.

"Ya finally awake, Morzansson? Eeh? Well are ya, yer Dragon Rider? Those injuries you and yer sorry excuse for a dragon have gained have reminded you about the power of the almigh'y King?" a man called and Murtagh heard someone else chuckle and sneer in response.

Murtagh opened his mouth to cast a spell which would make the guards endure extreme pain, but he couldn't remember the word. He tried again but he still couldn't remember. Frustrated now, he was about to mutter a spell that would break apart the chains on his feet and, much to his growing annoyance, couldn't remember that word either.

He then remembered Galbatorix's orders from the night before and he had come to the conclusion that he had been drugged.

_But, Thorn, if I've been drugged, how am I talking to you?_

_Galbatorix has experimented with the herbs that make it, it blocks your magic ability but our link remains intact._

_Oh. _

_That's a rather blunt answer, Murtagh._

_Oh shut up._

Murtagh sat down on the floor and curled up into a ball, shivering, his shirt had been torn off for his whipping, and he could remember the blinding pain now, how the whipped had whistled through the air and when it struck, how the lines on his back throbbed and the feeling of blood pouring down his cut back.

The cell smelled of dried blood, sweat and urine. Murtagh coughed and reached for a water pitcher, he was so thirsty, he didn't care that the drink had been spiked with more of the drug.

_Thorn, how long...? _Murtagh started to ask but Thorn answered before he could finish the sentence.

_A few hours, nothing too serious, _Thorn said.

_Has anything new happened in that time?_

_Aye, Galbatorix plans to send the both of us to Surda later today to join forces with the camp there, ready to attack the Varden._

_What?! We just only came back yesterday! He will make us capture my brother and Saphira, won't he?_

_Aye._

_Then we have no choice but to defeat them, die trying or return here in shame._

_Aye, small one._

Dread clutched at Murtagh's belly, he didn't wish to fight his brother again, even with the strength of his five-and-twenty eldunayra. He feared about what would happen to him if he failed again, how Galbatorix would torture him, and how Shruikan would torture Thorn. Murtagh would be whipped within an inch of his life. When he was small, he had heard stories of Galbatorix ordering people to be whipped until he could see their livers, and how they would die a slow and painful death afterwards.

_We must, Murtagh, we must defeat Eragon and Saphira, and we must capture them and present them to the King._

_I know, for our sakes._

_Murtagh, we have one other option, the one that Eragon suggested._

_We change our true names? What if Galbatorix has cast a spell which would alert him if our true names changed?_

_We could always do some investigating, _Thorn suggested.

_It is worth a try, we should start-_ Murtagh began but there was renewed shouting outside and the sound of a lock scraping against metal and the door cracked open. Murtagh saw a woman of about thirty standing in the doorway, the torches behind her lit and two guards on either side of her.

"Well, do ya work and then get outta there quickish, King's orders," the guard who had taunted Murtagh earlier said. He was still curled up in a ball when the door was swung open. As soon as the woman was over the threshold, the door shut behind her with a soft boom. She looked at Murtagh with soft brown eyes.

_Her eyes are like Eragon's, _Murtagh thought. She was wearing a woollen dress and her hair was hidden beneath a length of cloth, as if she were a house maid. She smiled and knelt down next to Murtagh, who stiffened and drew back, his left hand raised threateningly and the gedwëy ignasia started to glow. Even though he couldn't use magic and the woman knew it, she still recoiled slightly as his palm started to shine.

"Be still," she commanded and gently pushed down Murtagh's arm. "My name is Monica and I have come to tend to your back." She pushed Murtagh around so his bareback was visible and he heard Monica intake a sharp breath. She laid her hand on his back and murmured 'Waíse heill', the words strange yet familiar to Murtagh. His skin itched and crawled as the magic took its toll and his skin began to flow together again.

After a few minutes of Monica healing him, she was exhausted and there was the only usual scar on Murtagh's back where Morzan had thrown Zar'roc at him.

"I'm done," Monica whispered and she staggered upright, as if she were drunk and tottered to the door. She banged on it lightly three times and the door swung open, she stepped outside and the door shut again, leaving Murtagh in near darkness.

_Ah! My back is so much better after that! _Murtagh thought and he stretched his arms over his head and interlocked his fingers, he stayed in that pose for awhile then relaxed and sat down on a wooden shelf with a couple of blankets arranged on it.

_Lucky you, no one has come to me yet, _Thorn grumbled. _Wait, people draw near now and their minds are shielded, they must be magicians. _

Thorn was correct and after twenty minutes, most of his injuries had been healed, his muscles still ached from his forced growth spurt but otherwise, he was fit and healthy.

Food was brought to Murtagh soon after, a meal of fresh baked bread, wine and the finest slices of cheese.

_Ha! Galbatorix is spoiling me! _Murtagh thought but refrained from complaining and tore at his food and wine, finishing the meal in a matter of minutes. After he had finished his food, a messenger boy hurried outside of Murtagh's cell and quickly told the guard that the King wanted Murtagh. The door creaked open and two guards came in. They roughly shoved Murtagh outside and gave him a cotton shirt and removed the shackles on his legs, and then they pushed and shoved him up sets of cold stone steps which ended with a door with a metal grate on it. One of the guards removed a set of keys from his belt and inserted one of them into the lock and he pushed the gate open.

Murtagh squinted as sunlight dazzled his eyes and the guards hauled him towards Galbatorix's throne room.

The room was cold and dark and the King sat upon his throne and a raised dais of black marble.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix said, rising to his feet, a glittering purple sword on his belt, his original Rider's sword, Blödhald. "I am not a cruel or hard man, but this must be done in order keep balance in the Empire, I expect you and your dragon to leave for Surda in the next two hours. Join the camp there and I order you, Du Wydra abr Zar'roc, to capture Eragon and Saphira and to not return until you do or you are dead," Galbatorix ordered, and then waved his right hand towards the door as a clear sign to leave, his rings flashing in the light the fire in the brackets cast.

Murtagh walked as fast as he could away from Galbatorix and as soon as he was out of the throne room, began to run as fast as he could to pack and get Thorn ready to leave for Surda.


	7. Chapter 7 -- Flying

7

**Flying is the most wonderful thing, maybe**

_Soon the light of the burning was faint below, a red twinkle on the black floor; and they were high up in the sky, rising all the time in strong sweeping circles. Bilbo never forgot that flight, clinging onto Dori's ankles._

_ **– The Hobbit: J.R.R Tolkien**_

Eragon awoke from his waking dreams and found Arya in his arms, her breathing slow and regular. He remembered at one point yesterday when they had cried themselves into silence, and sat with eachother, enjoying the other's company and they hadn't moved and eventually had drifted into their waking dreams from there, sleeping under the stars.

Eragon rolled onto his back slightly; one arm still trapped under Arya's body and looked upwards. It was nearly dawn and Eragon could make out Aiedail, the Morning Star. Arya stirred, lost in the land of dreams. Eragon though back to when he had been in the Empire alone after storming Helgrind and Arya had come to find him, and that night when they were sitting around the campfire, and how Arya had made that perfect grass ship.

How Saphira had destroyed all of the furniture in Nasuada's pavilion and….The conversation between those two soldiers. The words replayed over in Eragon's mind,

_"You heard what Morzan's spawn said as well as I did," _one of the soldiers had said to the other_. _As that though occurred, he wondered what Murtagh had said. He sighed, frustrated and Arya stirred, and then she opened her bright green eyes to look at Eragon. He looked back at her and she closed her eyes again slightly, breathing in the air. It smelled of pine needles, like Arya did and Eragon stretched out his mind to encompass the clearing.

Little animals and life filled the trees, an owl slept high up in the braches of a forest pine and a den of rabbits huddled together and gathered food for the coming cold seasons, the trees were dropping their leaves and only the evergreens remained untouched.

"Eragon," Arya murmured and Eragon came back to himself.

"Yes?"

"Do we have anything today?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I just want to sit here, all day with you, and Saphira. What is so important that we must return to the Varden?"

"The trial of Lady Lorana and you must contact Queen Islanzadí as well since you didn't do it yesterday."

"Yes, I should contact my mother. What time is it?"

"About half an hour till dawn, we still have time."

They lay down together, watching the stars and the skies growing lighter and the sun began to climb in the sky. Saphira laid curled up close beside them, her slow breathing loud to their ears. She growled and twitched, lost in her dream and Eragon started when a small amount of fire escaped her nostrils. It scorched the grass beside them charcoal black and Eragon felt several small creatures met their end in Saphira's white blue flames.

She sighed and rolled over onto her wing and she stretched her head out and opened her eyes to look at her Rider and Arya.

_Good morning, little one, Arya, _Saphira said, yawning and showing all of her snowy white teeth. She got to her feet and stretched her wings out to their fullest extent, turning everything blue, the sunlight shine through her wings. She shook her head and her scales shimmered with every hue of blue.

_Good morning, Saphira, _Eragon said and walked up to her and hugged her face. She started to hum and she closed her eyes.

_We have the trial of Lady Lorana today partner-of-my-heart-and-mind, _Eragon said and Saphira acknowledged him. Eragon then began to scratch behind her ear and she hummed even louder.

The sun was at about six or seven o'clock now and it was time to leave for the Varden. Eragon jumped nimbly up on to Saphira's back and looked at Arya who had stepped back, her eyes wide.

"Arya?" Eragon asked, holding out his hand from his perch towards Arya how gingerly took a step forwards and was soon climbing warily on to Saphira and placed herself behind Eragon and wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her chin on his shoulder. 'Are you ready?' he asked.

"Just go," Arya whispered.

_Go, Saphira! _Eragon shouted and Saphira launched herself into the air. Arya gripped Eragon's midriff tightly and let out a scream of fear, Saphira constantly moving underneath her and her wings beating. Eragon yelled with delight and Saphira roared. The wind whistled in his hair and Saphira dived.

The wind was squeezed out of him as Arya gripped him tightly, her breathing quick and terrified and just a few hundred yards above the Jiet River, Saphira levelled out and just simply glided and dropped even lower so she was only a few feet above the water, the tips of her wings gently brushing the water as she flapped. The air was moist and cool and Eragon let go of Saphira so he was only gripping her with his knees.

Immediately, Arya hands darted forwards to clutch the neck spike which Eragon usually held on to and her entire body was shaking.

"Arya! Let go of her spike!" Eragon called over the wind

"No, no, no! I will not! How can you enjoy this?! This is madness! How can you bare to do this day after day?! I could not do this every day of my life! I am sorry, Eragon, Saphira, but please let me off!" Arya shrieked her voice alot higher than usual and her knuckles were bone white.

Eragon twisted around and Arya's face was as pale as her hands and her eyes showed pure terror.

_Up, Saphira! Go up and do another dive! Then you can do whatever you please._

Saphira roared and shot upwards and into the clouds, then when she was thousands of feet above the Varden which she had been steadily approaching all the while, pointed downwards once more and plummeted towards earth, then began to corkscrew.

Arya then thumped Eragon shoulder very hard, begging and pleading to be let off. Just before she was to hit the ground, Saphira ceased her rotation and flared her wings, then alighted on the ground outside of Eragon's tent.

Arya immediately jumped off, swayed, then collapsed onto the dirt covered floor.

"Arya!" Eragon laughed and jumped off Saphira who settled down on wrapped her tail around her body, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling. Eragon ran forwards and crouched next to Arya and gently lifted her to her feet. Arya blinked, and then slapped Eragon as hard as she could around the face, her blow echoing around the camp.

Eragon stumbled backwards and Arya angrily advanced on him and raised her hand for a second blow.

"You! Never. Do. That. To. Me. AGAIN!" she screamed. Eragon backed away, his cheek a raw red and he was grinning and trying not to laugh and Saphira began to chuckle behind her, her deep laugh echoing around the area.

Arya was purple with rage as she stomped forwards, her hands curled into fists and her chest swelled up.

"Arya, I am sorry and I didn't mean it! It was a little fun," Eragon said in the ancient language and Arya paused, and then relaxed slightly. She looked at Eragon, then flew at him and gave him a small hug, so fast that any human would have missed it.

"_That's_ for apologising," Arya said, her cheeks going a slight shade of red, she then turned and walked towards her tent leaving Eragon rooted to the spot.

_First she's angry at me, and then she hugs me? What next? _Eragon thought.

_Maybe a kiss? _Saphira replied in an innocent tone and Eragon rounded on her.

_Saphira! How can you say that when you know that she rejected me at the Agaetí Blödhren? You know of her feelings for me!_

_Maybe she was thinking of Fäolin at the time, and your head was among the clouds then for you had just changed. Maybe you just expressing your feelings like that to her was too much for her to coop with at the time, for Fäolin's death had barely happened eight months prior and she had only know you for maybe four of those months. She spent many years going back and forth between the Varden and Du Weldenvarden with my egg in the hope I would hatch. When Durza killed Fäolin and Glenwing only months before your confession, it must have shocked her greatly when she found out that you wanted her to fall in love again when she had only just lost Fäolin. She wasn't prepared for you. Now that Fäolin's death was nearly a year ago, maybe she is warming up to you, having second thoughts if you will._

_Errrrr…._

_To cut a long story short, it was a bad time for you to express your feelings so openly like that and she wasn't ready for it._

_Why couldn't you have just said that the first time?_

_Because I tried to make it clearer to you but like always, women aren't one of you better areas._

_Fine! I will never understand females._

Saphira growled and Eragon entered his tent and changed his clothes, belted on Brisingr and made his way with Saphira to Nasuada's tent.

There were a lot of people massed around it and Nasuada had had to station twice as many of her guard around the entrance but the racket and the crowd quieted down as Eragon and Saphira approached and a path instantly cleared from them.

"Shadeslayer!" someone called out from the crowd. "Please heal my child! She suffers from an illness!"

"Argetlam! My brother has gone blind from the fighting in Feinster! Please restore his sight!"

There were suddenly cries from all around for him to heal loved ones, cure a donkey of its lameness, to help a wife going through childbirth and other such things and Eragon was glad when he was granted access into Nasuada's pavilion.

One person from every race in the Varden was in the tent, Nasuada, Orrin, Nar Garzhvog, a giant Kull who was over eight feet tall, Jörmundur, Roran, Arya and, to his surprise, Orik in a scrying mirror

Lady Lorana was seated by her guards at the far end of the pavilion and Saphira poked her head through the flap in the back of the tent.

Nasuada cleared her throat and clapped her hands.

"Silence please!" Nasuada called and the tent fell silent. Nasuada lowered her hands and clasped them in front of her emerald dress. "Now that everyone is present, let us begin. Please be seated."

Everyone sat in their chairs around the oaken table in the centre of the pavilion and Orik looked on from his mirror.

"I am sure that you all know why we are here. Today is the trial of Lady Lorana Arsmirsdaughter of Feinster. She has sworn herself to Galbatorix and we are here to see if we can break her promise to the tyrant King, or to see if we cannot. These are the charges..."

Nasuada rattled off a list of charges and Eragon contacted Saphira.

_Saphira, what were you saying about Arya and Fäolin? Please continue your lecture since you seemed unfinished last time._

_No, I was finished, but I will say this, if you want to get into Arya's good books, don't rush her like you did last time and let all of your feelings out for her. Let her come to you if you will since you seem willing enough to want to have her and remember this one important factor which you forgot last time, don't look at her only on her outside, in all of her beauty, spend time with her and get to know Arya and how she really is, not the one she covers herself up as in public._

_Alright, thank you for your advice Saphira._

_You still like her then?_

_What?_

_Oh never mind._

"Eragon," Nasuada's voice said and Eragon snapped back to reality. "Eragon, please examine Lady Lorana's mind for Galbatorix would have made her swear oaths in the ancient language."

"Yes, milady," Eragon said and he faced Lady Lorana and stretched out his mind to hers. She cautiously lowered her barriers and Eragon examined her memories...

_He was standing in a room, with a ceiling reached high beyond his vision. He was looking out of Lady Lorana's eyes and she was focused on a figure above her on a raised dais sitting lazily on a throne of black marble._

_"Lady," he said "I trust you are here for a reason?"_

_"You have brought me here before you, Galbatorix and I have no wish to serve you! None at all!"_

_The King smiled and fixed his glittering eyes on Lady Lorana._

_"I am afraid I will have to do this, in order to ensure your loyalties are to me and me only. I did not wish for this but if I must, I will."_

_He said something, something she could not understand and remembered standing there, unable to stop the words coming from her lips as she swore herself to the King._

_"Now, return to your seaside city and hold out the Varden if they come, I shall give you three of my magicians to take back with you. Now be gone!"_

The memory ended there and Eragon opened his eyes.

"She has sworn herself to the King using her true name, the King forced her to do this and she was not willing put in front of the King," Eragon said and Nasuada nodded.

"Well, Jörmundur, report to Trianna and ask her and the rest of Du Vrangr Gata to try and find a way around these promises that Galbatorix has laid on Lady Lorana so she may be able to break these promises."

"Yes, milady," Jörmundur said.

"The rest of you are dismissed," Nasuada said. She stood up and left.


	8. Chapter 8 -- I Challenge You

8

**I challenge thee, Eragon Shadeslayer**

_Two swords, angled for slicing came whirring towards my chest. My block was simple: a step of the back leg, a shift of weight, my right sword joining the left in front of me, cutting side slanted down. His blades hit mine. The impact resonated through my arm bones**.**_

**_ – Eon, Rise of the Dragoneye: Alison Goodman_**

Roran stood up from the table as Nasuada exited the pavilion. Eragon was still seated and had his feet propped up on the table, examining his nails. He swung on his chair slightly and his eyes kept flicking towards Arya.

Roran stretched and shook himself slightly; his left hand on his hammer and proceeded towards the pavilion's exit. Roran jumped as Eragon then materialised beside him.

"Gods, Eragon! Don't do that!" Roran said.

"Sorry, but I thought that you would have heard me."

Roran taped his ear. "I don't have your superior hearing, remember?"

"True," Eragon said; massaging his cheek and his eyes kept flicking towards Arya who was still seated.

"I saw what happened this morning," Roran said as they stepped outside. The crowd was still amassed around the tent and the Varden were desperately trying to hold a circle around the entrance to the pavilion.

"Shadeslayer! Stronghammer! What has happened to our Lady?" they cried. Nasuada was standing at the head of the circle, her Nighthawk guards shoving the crowds aside so Nasuada could get through. People shied away from the two looming Urgals, their horns stretching upwards towards the skies.

"You did?" Eragon said, stepping back to look up at Roran, his slanted eyes wide. Roran still hadn't got used to how Eragon had changed; he appeared more of an elf now than a human.

"Aye, Arya slapped you. I came around to ask you a favour and then Saphira landed, Arya fell off, you got off, and Arya slapped you," Roran said, shrugging his shoulders. The crowd still pressed from all sides, shouting and screaming to see their Lady.

Eragon turned around to look at Saphira whose head could be seen over the pavilion. She shook her head and roared for all to hear. Roran covered his ears at the volume and he saw Eragon wince. Roran imagined that it would be alot worse for his cousin.

The crowd instantly went quite and Nasuada turned towards Saphira whose scales and eyes caught the sunlight and sparkled as if she were a mountain of sapphires.

"Thank you, Saphira," Nasuada said. She turned to address the crowd once more. "In answer to your questions about the Lady Lorana, people of Feinster," Nasuada began, "She has sworn herself to the tyrant King using spells of binding and power. She did not choose this as Eragon Shadeslayer has proven and our magicians will be trying to discover how to release Lady Lorana from these oaths."

Roran smirked at Eragon who was gazing at Nasuada.

_Getting all the attention there,_ Shadeslayer? Roran asked with his mind.

Eragon smiled a bit when he heard Roran's voice sound in his head.

_I was just serving the peoples of Alagaësia, _Commander. Eragon retorted. Roran grinned in response at Eragon's bemused face and Saphira began to laugh.

"Will she be free from these oaths?" someone shouted.

"Yes, yes she will," Nasuada replied and the crowd shouted with delight. A path cleared and Nasuada and the Nighthawks walked down the aisle.

"Thank you, Shadeslayer! May the gods bless thee Shadeslayer, for helping our Lady in this dark time," a woman called and they were other cries of thanks.

Roran laughed as Eragon's ears turned red. Roran saw Arya exit the pavilion out of the corner of his eye and Eragon turned around when he saw where Eragon was looking.

"You still after her then?" Roran asked, looking sideways at his cousin.

"Never mind," Eragon said, looking away hurriedly. "How's Katrina?" Eragon asked.

"She's fine," Roran replied, still grinning at Eragon. "So, do you still pursue Arya?"

"I said, never mind," Eragon growled and lightly punched Roran on the arm.

"Oy!" Roran shouted and he shoved Eragon away. There was a fire dancing in his eyes and he launched himself at Roran who caught him and, to his alarm, continued to slide backwards as Eragon pushed him backwards with what seemed little effort. Roran dug his heels into the earth and pushed against Eragon with all of his might and he only succeeded in falling to the ground as his foot caught on a lose rock. Eragon fell on top of him and Roran pushed him away.

He was grinning and Eragon let out a little laugh, one that pleased Roran's ears and which was so different to the laughter that he was expecting.

Roran studied Eragon for a second, and then flew at his cousin, trying to grab him by the shoulders, but Eragon twisted away and Roran continued forwards to sprawl in the dirt.

"No fair!" Roran complained. "I don't have the speed of an elf."

Eragon laughed again and the bell like peals took Roran off guard. Faster than he could see, Eragon charged at him and jumped onto him, driving one knee into his back. Roran grimaced in pain and Eragon grabbed his arms and twisted them back to a painful angle, then lowered himself to whisper in Roran's ear.

"Dead," he whispered, and then let up his cousin. Roran was panting hard and his face was flushed and he felt annoyed when he saw Eragon's breathing was normal and not one drop of sweat beaded his forehead.

"I guess I owe you an apology, Eragon," Roran grinned. "I am sorry about what I said earlier about you and Arya."

"Guess I thought the same about you Katrina once as you are thinking of me now," Eragon shrugged. "I mean before all this." He gestured towards Saphira, himself, the Varden and Feinster and Roran nodded.

"Seems like a lifetime ago, ain't it?" Roran said.

"Aye," Eragon agreed.

"Oh why, oh why did you have to find Saphira's egg in the Spine all that time ago?" Roran said.

Eragon smiled, shrugging. "I suppose it was my wyrd." The three of them: Eragon, Roran and Saphira, continued forwards to where the villagers of Carvahall were staying. Roran could hear the clinking sound of metal striking metal as the men from Carvahall practiced with their arms and the slower and steadier sound of Horst working with one of his projects.

Roran and Eragon trotted over to where the practice fields were and the shouting and sword swinging stopped almost instantly as the two cousins appeared on the edges of the field.

"Hail Shadeslayer! Hail Stronghammer!" the men shouted, raising their weapons to salute the two. Saphira padded around and settled herself on the othersider of the field, casting a shadow over the men who stood there. They looked up at the mighty sapphire blue dragon and she gazed back, her gaze steady. She shuffled her wings and wrapped her tail around her body, her blue eyes watching everyone.

"Shadeslayer!" a man called and Roran recognised the man as Lang. Eragon turned towards him and Lang made a slight kneel in front of his cousin. "Shadeslayer, I was wondering whether you would help me with a small drill I was about to show the men, it would be an honour if you could work with us."

"Aye, I will help," Eragon replied, smiling at Lang who beamed delightedly. Eragon drew his sword and Roran heard utters of exclamation as the villagers saw the sword for the first time. Lang paled.

"Y-You don't expect us to used real swords, Shadeslayer?"

"I do, and not to worry, I can block the edge of the blade to stop us getting cut to ribbons." Eragon brought Brisingr down in front of his eyes and Roran heard Eragon murmur, "Gëuloth du knífr." A small spark jumped between his finger and he ran the down both sides of the blade. Once Eragon was done, he held his hand out for Lang's sword and repeated he process with that sword, then handed it back to Lang. He tested the balance of his sword and appeared satisfied.

"Remember," Eragon said "that although the sword can't cut you, these can still break bones so be careful with that."

Lang nodded his understanding and pointed his sword at Eragon. "I challenge thee, Eragon Shadeslayer!" Lang roared and Eragon smiled in return, inviting the challenge.

Lang readied his sword and Eragon mirrored him, and the two began to prowl around in a circle.

"Now!" Lang said to the watching crowd. "Eragon and I are circling each other for a reason, trying to get to know each other if you will, trying to find a weakness in the other's defences, looking for an opening."

Lang lost patience first and charged at Eragon, his sword raised and a war cry tore from his lips. Eragon stepped back on his left foot and lifted Brisingr over his head to block the blow Lang had aimed at him.

"That is one of the simplest blocks that can be preformed," Lang said, panting a little from the effort of holding Eragon at bay.

Eragon looked back coolly at Lang from between their interlocked blades. Roran watched as eagerly as the other men as his instructor and his cousin battled in strength. Everyone knew who was the stronger and Eragon shoved Lang back. He stumbled backwards and Eragon took this advantage to swing at Lang's head, feinted then swung at his belly, slow enough for everyone to follow the movement, but fast enough for Lang to barely block Brisingr's glimmering blade.

"A clever tactic," Lang panted, sweat gleaming on his forehead, his teeth bared. "It is always a good idea to distract your enemy and while he is preoccupied with the distraction, always go for the death blow. Eragon here would have won the fight in an instant if he were at his normal strength and speed mind you."

Eragon laughed and drew Brisingr back, dancing on light feet. He rapped Lang's blade with his own and jerked it to the side, forcing Lang to let go. It spun away into the dirt and Eragon lift Brisingr and placed it in the hollow of Lang's throat.

"Dead," he whispered and the men began to cheer. Roran was one of the loudest and Lang had a graceful smile on his face.

"I can now tell my family something I have always wanted to, that I have fought Eragon Shadeslayer and have sadly lost to him. Thank you, Argetlam for your time."

He turned to address the rest of the crowd. 'The last move you saw there was when Eragon disarmed me, a clever move and, if preformed correctly, will force your enemy to let go of his or her sword and then you can go in for the kill.' He retrieved his blade and thanked Eragon once more who removed the spell from both of the swords so they returned to their usual sharpness.

"It was an honour to do battle with you, Shadeslayer!" Lang called and Roran saw Eragon grin in response.

"Liking it in the centre of attention?" Roran teased. Saphira started to laugh as her Rider's ears went red yet again.

"Roran! Eragon!" someone called and he and Roran turned around to see a beautiful young woman standing on the edge of the sparring field, her copper hair shining in the sunlight.

"Katrina!" Roran called and he went over to her and took her into his arms, her hair smelled clean and sweet and she nuzzled Roran in the hollow of his neck and he kissed the top of her head. His hand when to her midriff and he was delighted to find that her belly was slightly round under his fingers. Katrina placed one hand over Roran's and she looked lovingly into his eyes.

"Is all going well, my love?" Roran asked in as soft voice

"Yes, all is well," Katrina replied and they started to rock in each other's arms. "All is well."


	9. Chapter 9 -- Messages

9

**Message**

_Then a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam: _Please deposit one drachma.

_I looked over at Tyson but he was still snoring. He sleeps about as heavily as a tranquilized elephant._

_I didn't know what to think. I'd never gotten a collect Iris-message before. _

**_– Percy Jackson and the Battle of the Labyrinth: Rick Riordan_**

Eragon left Roran and Katrina together, murmuring about the plans for their child and Eragon thought he should leave. He wound his way back through the tents while Saphira followed in the air since the spaces in between the tents were too small for her to get through without knocking any tents over. He went to go and collect his lunch and took his plate back to his tent to get away from the yammering crowds.

He was aware of his guards around him, always keeping their distance but close enough to assist him if necessary. He arrived at his tent and Eragon sensed his guards take up positions around the tent and keep watch as Eragon was inside eating his lunch of bread, fruit and vegetables. Saphira lay outside of the tent, basking in the sunlight and drifting into a light sleep kneading the dirt with her claws in order to make it more comfortable.

_Are you hungry Saphira? _Eragon asked

_No, I had alot of food yesterday, at least half a dozen plump deer._

_Have you had enough Fireweed?_

_Yes I have, I watch what I eat very carefully Eragon, unlike you two-legs-humans who stuff yourselves silly._

_But I am no longer entirely human Saphira; don't judge me like that._

_You don't eat enough meat, _was her only reply. _You need the protein, your body needs it. Otherwise, I think you don't eat enough._

_Saphira, you know I hate eating meat, and I eat enough food._

_I know, I will repeat what I said at Helgrind, all things need to consume other things in order to survive, including you eating meat, Eragon._

_I will not, unless occasion demands it._

_You have become a vegetarian, something which would disgrace a dragon, a living being who only eats plants and bread._

_You are hopeless, Saphira, does it not disgust you to take another being's life then eat their flesh?_

_No, _you_ are hopeless, for I will do what I must to survive, even if I must slay every single being in the Varden, excluding you, _Saphira added as an afterthought and Eragon smiled. He set his plate aside and stretched out on the cot, staring at the canvas ceiling. He then stretched out his mind to touch the ones of those nearby, the elves slamming up their barriers along with other people that felt the touch which was few. One person was so surprised by the touch that he cut himself whist sharpening his sword. The man's curses echoed through the camp and Eragon quickly skirted around his mind.

He observed a colony of ants he found soon afterwards and became engrossed with them, how they worked together to survive, helping eachother to gather food, defend eachother and so many other things.

He stayed watching the ants for a long time becoming one with their thoughts, feelings and actions, unaware of the time passing until he sensed someone, something smashing into his barriers and being repelled, then a pause, then the whole thing would start again. Eragon didn't know how long they had been trying to gain access to his mind.

His body stirred and he opened his eyes a fraction, still keeping his mind shielded.

'Eragon!' someone was shouting. He became fully aware to find Arya looking into his face, her expression tense and worried and she relaxed somewhat when she saw that Eragon had come to himself. 'Thank goodness! I could not get you to stir or wake for now nearly half an hour, what were you doing? Your barriers were so strong and not wavering in the slightest, not even Saphira could get through. I was afraid you'd...' she trailed off, looking embarrassed and partly hid her face behind a wall of raven hair.

'What is wrong, you look grave, Arya. Is someone hurt?'

'No, Argetlam,' Blödhgarm purred from the corner, 'we have bad news, news from our spies in Urû'baen,' he explained.

'What is the news?' Eragon asked Blödhgarm.

'Murtagh and Thorn have set out from Urû'baen, heading south and fast,' Blödhgarm said and Eragon swore under his breath.

'Saphira and I are due to leave tomorrow for Gil'ead to pay our last respects to our last masters,' Eragon complained.

'Speak about it to Nasuada; I stand in a place that I cannot intervene with the goings on in the Varden,' Arya said and Eragon fumed, crossing his arms and putting on a scowl.

'Fine, I will go to Nasuada,' Eragon snapped and he exited his tent, annoyed that Murtagh and Thorn had to come now, _now_ of all times and he was annoyed that he was not even able to study an _ant colony_ in peace.

_Eragon,_ Saphira said, reading his thoughts and rising to her feet. _You did not stir for many hours when you were in the tent; think about not yourself now, but about the Varden and Alagaësia if you and I leave now, then the Varden will be wiped of the face of the earth, and you and I will have to run, with no home, no one which we can be sure to trust._

_We will have a home, with the elves or the dwarves if it comes down to that,_ Eragon retorted, now running through the maze of tents to get to Nasuada's pavilion, Saphira took to the air to keep up with Eragon and several times, she tried to overtake him but Eragon only increased his speed until he could see the fluttering flags of Nasuada's pavilion.

The Urgal guards barely had time to register him, for at his speed, the humans and dwarves missed him, and he burst into Nasuada's, a look of anger on his face.

Nasuada was sitting at her oaken table, maps and diagrams in front of her when Eragon entered. She jumped and turned around in her seat, bewildered as Eragon stormed to her, he did not know where his anger came from and he ignored Saphira who was trying to calm Eragon.

'Nasuada! I am due to leave tomorrow,' Eragon said in a dangerously quite tone, walking right up to her and towering over her. Nasuada raised her chin and stood up from her seat.

'Eragon, I am sorry but I cannot let you leave now, Murtagh and Thorn are on their way here and we must have you close to help us. You are a vital piece of the puzzle we need to topple Galbatorix from his throne. You must stay Eragon, listen to me!' she hissed as Eragon started to interrupt. 'We cannot afford to have you halfway across Alagaësia when Murtagh and Thorn come, the Varden will become nigh on extinct if you have gone. One hundred years of hard work, plans and strategies gone to waste because you, Eragon Bromsson, could not wait for a few more days!' She shouted the last words and was pacing up and down the tent. Eragon closed his mouth and glared at Nasuada, fuming and gnashing his teeth in frustration.

_She is right, _Saphira said in a caring tone, her head looking through the flap at the back of the tent.

Eragon sighed.

_You are right as always, Saphira, I should not have shouted at her._

_No you shouldn't have, _Saphira said. _Apologise to her and ask her what we can do to prepare._

Eragon looked towards Nasuada who was looking back at Eragon, all of her anger barely contained.

'I am sorry, Nasuada, please forgive me. I am frustrated that I cannot leave tomorrow, I cry your pardon,' Eragon said.

Nasuada relaxed and smoothed down her pale blue dress.

'You are forgiven, Eragon, I am sorry as well, the timing is just very inconvenient.'

She sighed and crossed her arms.

'What can Saphira and I do, Nasuada, to help you and the Varden prepare for the attack?' Eragon asked. Nasuada looked slowly from Eragon to Saphira and back again.

'Very well, since you ask, I will have you and Saphira to dress in your armour so you two may fight at a moment's notice, I will not have either of you two die because you were unprepared,' Nasuada said.

Eragon bowed and exited the tent. He met Saphira around the front and began to walk slowly back through the camp.

Evening had now fallen and the smoke from many fires drifted upwards, the camp rang with men's laughter.

_Shall we eat first? _Eragon asked.

_Eat, don't scare the Varden at this stage by walking into the dining area with full battle armour on, if Murtagh and Thorn have just left Urû'baen, I think we can risk one meal without armour._ _Word will be sure to be out in the morning about Murtagh and Thorn winging their way here soon enough._

Eragon grunted his agreement and they both set off to get their dinner. He didn't linger at the cook's tents, despite the urgings of the other villagers of Carvahall who asked him to join them. He turned towards them and they stopped asking him when they saw his eyes, they immediately knew something was wrong.

'Eragon!' Roran called and he came over and grabbed Eragon's arm before he could return to his tent. 'I've seen that look before and I'd recognise it anywhere, even though you have a different face. What is troubling you?'

Eragon pulled away from his cousin, even though Roran held on tightly.

'I am sure you are to find out in the next few days.'

He left Roran who had a confused expression on his face and walked over to Saphira and they walked back through the camp together to Eragon's tent. He ate his dinner quickly then pulled out Saphira's armour which was stored in the corner of his tent and spent the next hour and a half putting it on her. He turned away people who ventured close with a spell so that they would turn away when they came too close, as not to alarm them yet when Murtagh and Thorn were still a few days away.

After he was done, he stepped back to look at Saphira as she looked back, a smile in her eyes and she lent forwards to Eragon and he hugged her fiercely, the cold metal of her armour pressing against his face. He closed his eyes and concentrated more on his bond with Saphira.

_Saphira,_ Eragon murmured with his mind, his hand automatically reaching for the flap behind her ear and he began to scratch at it and her humming filled his ears and he smiled.

_Eragon, _Saphira said. _Eragon._


	10. Chapter 10 -- A Talk Over Breakfast

10

**A Talk over Breakfast**

_They finally managed to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once._

_'What have we got today?' Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge._

_'Double Potions with the Slytherins,' said Ron. 'Snape's head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true.'_

**_– Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: J.K. Rowling_**

Eragon opened his eyes and found himself looking at a blue tent. He was warm and he flexed his fingers and he felt cool metal under his hand. He turned his head and his face stuck to metal plates under his face. Something tightened around his midriff and Eragon closed his eyes again, breathing in deeply. Eragon stretched out his hand and tapped some of the blue scales which were visible between the plates of Saphira armour after he had pulled them aside somewhat.

Saphira lifted her wing after a few seconds and unwrapped her tail from around him. Eragon stood up and stretched, rolling his head on his shoulder and interlocking his hands and pushing them towards the skies. He stayed in that pose for a few seconds and then relaxed. By that time, Saphira was awake and getting to her feet, the sunlight gleaming on her scales and armour as it caught the light.

_Good morning, Saphira._

_Good morning, Eragon, _Saphira replied, yawning and kneading the dirt in front of her with her claws. She shook her head and the shiver went along her back and ended at her tail. _I hate sleeping in my armour; it's so uncomfortable and heavy. Plus I can't get at all of my itches and scratches, like that one on my back, _she said and Eragon clambered onto her and sat in the juncture between her neck and shoulders and twisted around, lifting one of the plates after undoing some of the buckles, and Saphira snaked her head around and began to rub at the spot with her teeth.

_Aaah, that is so much better! _Saphira sighed as Eragon did up the armour again. She was looking at him kindly and Eragon faced forwards again. Saphira shook herself and then looked skywards.

_I must hunt; I am hungry so I will be awhile._

_Don't go far, Saphira._

_I won't, yesterday, I saw a herd of deer on the far side of the Jiet River and they should still be nearby. I will be an hour at most and I will return if there is any trouble._

She lifted her wings and flew skywards, her armour and scale reflecting the sunlight.

Before Eragon left the area where Saphira had been moments previously, he examined two or three minds to see if they had been informed of Murtagh and Thorn headed this way. Their emotions spoke for themselves, they were worried and apprehensive, many keeping their weapons on them and dressed ready for war. Eragon sighed and went back inside his tent, reaching under his cot for his armour.

The heavy mail shirt went on first and he grunted slightly as the mail fell on his shoulders. He didn't mind the weight much but always noticed whenever it went on. He then belted on the belt of Beloth the Wise, on which Brisingr hung and then a breast plate on his chest. Eragon then put on his greaves and bracers and finally, the mail-backed leather gloves on his hands; he left his helm on the bed, not needing it at the moment and then strode out of his tent.

Eragon and the elves that were also in the bright dress of war, worked their way towards the kitchens where they collected their breakfast, Eragon sitting and the elves preferring to stand and picked it the food with their fingers.

As Eragon had suspected, all of the men and some of the woman were dressed in armour and had swords, knives, daggers, axes, hammers and in one case, a club hanging by them or in easy reach. Alot of their owner's hands kept reaching towards their weapons and resting on them for a few seconds, then going back to their breakfast and they sat in stony silence, chewing on their food and their faces hard.

The villagers of Carvahall had also dressed in armour and Eragon saw Roran likewise kitted out like him but instead of a sword at his side, his hammer swung at his belt. Eragon stood up from his table and walked over to where Roran sat and squeezed in beside him, putting his plate down on the table.

'You herd then?' Eragon said.

'Everyone has, Nasuada told a few people this morning and the news has spread like wildfire in a forest with no rain,' Roran said, 'everyone's on edge because of that cursed tyrant King and his Rider and dragon.'

'Riders and dragons are what got us into this in the first place, if Arya hadn't sent Saphira's egg to me, we would probably still be in Carvahall, or in the King's ranks,' Eragon said, tearing at his bread.

'Aye, and so many lost ones would still be alive, my father, your father, Murtagh would still be on the run-'

'-The Ra'zac and Durza would also be alive,' Eragon said grimly. He turned towards his cousin, 'All of this because of one hunting trip.'

Roran grinned. 'It would have happened anyway, Arya would have transported Saphira's egg to you and got you and Brom mixed up still.'

'Aye,' Eragon said.

'This is what you didn't tell me last night, that Murtagh and his blasted red dragon were on their way here,' Roran said, accusation in his voice.

'It was on Nasuada's orders that we didn't tell anyone for obvious reasons.' Eragon growled.

'I understand,' Roran said, his voice softening. They were silent for a moment, Eragon tearing into his vegetables and bread, Roran his chicken and beef, both of them occasionally washing down their food with water.

After about half an hour of Eragon and Roran's talking and eating, Saphira returned, landing on the edge of the clearing, her armour rattling as she landed. Eragon could feel her satisfaction on her successful hunt which resulted in a full belly.

_How was the hunt Saphira_? Eragon asked, looking at her.

_Successful and enjoyable,_ she replied, licking her chops, her scales rasping at the contact. She sent him a picture of the six deer she had eaten and rumbled her approval.

_Any signs of the Empire? _

_None or that would have been the first thing I had told you wouldn't have I?_ Saphira said, settling into a more comfortable position, her sparkling eyes resting on her Rider.

_Yes, true,_ Eragon said sheepishly, getting up and walking over to her. A messenger boy ran into the area casting a frightened look at both Eragon and Saphira, then walked slowly toward both of them, bowing awkwardly.

'Lady Nasuada wishes you to go to her tent, Shadeslayer and Flametongue,' he said in a wavering voice, 'and you to Stronghammer,' he said, addressing Roran and wearily eyeing Brisingr, Saphira teeth and Roran's hammer.

'Do not be afraid of us,' Eragon said slowly, crouching down and resting his hand on one of the boy's shoulders. He became completely still as Eragon touched him.

'I saw you in battle, at Feinster,' he whispered, looking at Eragon. 'I want to be like you when I get old enough to handle a sword and fight in battle. You were so ferocious, and it scared me slightly, when you are so gentle and kind among us, Shadeslayer, and so terrifying in battle.'

'Don't be afraid of me and Saphira, we would never hurt you, for we are on the same side and trying to cast down that bastard King.' He spat the last words and Saphira gave a low snarl.

The boy's face paled as Saphira snarled, taking shallow breaths and trying to step back.

'She won't hurt you,' Eragon said gently. 'What is your name?'

'Relath,' he said in a small voice.

'Relath,' Eragon said, 'could you tell Nasuada that we will be with her shortly.' he looked at Roran who nodded, tapping his thigh and his hand straying to his hammer every few seconds.

Eragon took his hand off Relath's shoulder and he scampered away, looking back at the three of them with a frightened glance.

'Nice job, Eragon,' Roran teased.

'Oh shut up,' Eragon said. Roran grinned and stood up, quickly stuffing three forkfuls of chicken into his mouth then pushing his plate away. He was having difficulty chewing and Eragon laughed, his cousin look ridiculous and Roran gave a flat stare at Eragon. Saphira started to laugh her stone grinding laugh.

'Whaf's fso funei?' Roran asked, his mouth full of food. Eragon laughed even more and sent Roran a picture with his mind about how he looked. Roran's face turned red and started to chew, swallowing food every now and again until his mouth was empty.

'You know doing that's bad for you?' Eragon asked.

'Now you shut up.' Roran muttered and Eragon snorted, and then mimed zipping his lips and that got a smile out of Roran.

'Come on, we've got to go to Nasuada's tent now,' Eragon said.

'I know,' Roran said, his face still red and his ears burning.

Saphira rose to her feet, her muscles flexing as her legs took her weight again, the plates of her armour clattering against each other.

_I'll have to oil those later._ Eragon stated.

_Yes you will have to; it's very annoying having to listen to all of that clattering every time I move,_ she snapped and Eragon grinned.

_Later, _Eragon promised and Saphira pushed him forwards with the tip of her snout so he stumbled and barely managing to keep his balance. Roran and Saphira started to laugh at Eragon.

'Shut up!' Eragon roared but the only laughed harder.


	11. Chapter 11 -- Under Aiedail

11

**Under Aiedail**

_'You have a strong heart. No fear'_

_ **– Neytiri: Avatar**_

Thorn's wings rose up and down under Murtagh who was half awake and half asleep, since he hadn't dismounted Thorn since leaving Urû'baen the evening before. He shuddered in the cold air of dawn, his hair getting in his eyes and the land speeding below the Rider and dragon, and of course, the continued pounding of Thorn's wings, driving against the air in a constant battle with gravity.

Murtagh shifted in the saddle, turning his head to the other side of Thorn in an attempt to get in a more comfortable position and he rearranged the blankets under his head, his hands brushing again Thorn's ruby red scales, the morning light of dawn making them appear a brilliant shinning red.

_Murtagh,_ Thorn's voice rumbled in his head. _My wings grow tired and I must rest now, but not for long, maybe a couple of hours at most._

_No! We must keep going! Let me lend you strength from the eldunayra at least._

Thorn growled and he dropped several feet.

_I refuse to use the energy of the eldunayra, they were once strong, proud dragons, and still are in mind and spirit and just because their bodies are long gone and faded with the soils and seas, it does not make them any less dragon, I will not take advantage over them like that! _he snapped and Murtagh recoiled, stung, but he sensed truth in Thorn's words. He too hated what that bastard King was doing to the eldunayra at cursed him all the more strongly for it.

_I am sorry, forgive me but I do not wish for Galbatorix to torture us for a good few hours just because we were a couple of hours behind schedule, that twisted traitor would use any excuse, he and that sick weasel of a man Salcarthar would do to me, but more importantly, what they would do to you, I hate to see you suffer for my mistakes._

_And I hate to see you suffer from my mistakes as well Murtagh, I was the one who urged you to let Eragon and Saphira go on the Burning Plains, and because of this, the Ra'zac are dead, not that I liked them much anyway and we have suffered for all of those actions, the worst…_ Thorn broke off and Murtagh knew what he was getting at, the Golden Rider and Dragon, the ones that were called Oromis and Glaedr, the very last, not including Galbatorix, of the old order of Riders. Murtagh shuddered at the memories of that day, what he had screamed at the elder Rider when they had clashed and the three-legged Dragon had wrapped Thorn against his chest and slowly squeezing the life out of his partner, he had fought against the pain. 'Curse you! You could have helped us!' _Curse you. Curse you._

_It was not us that should be sorry for what happened that day. _Thorn said. _It was not you that delivered the death blow; it was Galbatorix's actions alone. It may have been your hand that held Zar'roc-_

_Thanks, you're really making me feel better._ Murtagh snapped. _Sorry._ Murtagh said in a small voice, _I just hate Galbatorix all the more for just heartlessly killing a great Dragon and Rider and what he tore for you and I, my love and freedom and your freedom and say, all over his own lost dragon._

_Put yourself in his position for just a moment, imagine how it would feel if I died, if suddenly half of who you were was just snatched away from you and you had no say in it._

_Now you are trying to make me feel _sorry_ for him?!_

_It would be better for the both of us._

_How does making my heart soft for that bastard King make it better for both of us?!_

_To free us from our bonds, remember that we both agreed to work on Eragon's suggestion just hours ago, don't go back on your promise now._

Murtagh paused.

_I promise,_ he said in the ancient language and Thorn's satisfaction washed over their link.

_Good, now that is settled, I must rest now, but not for long, maybe one or two hours, my wings burn. Then I shall fly fast and swift to make up for lost time._

_Rest for as long as you need, my dragon, I was blind to your discomfort in my anger and worry._

Murtagh hugged Thorn's neck and buried his face into the hard scales on Thorn's back and the dragon began to hum, low and deep in his chest much like he had heard Saphira do countless times before, but Thorn's was deeper and more comforting to him, it was rare that he and Thorn were happy since when Thorn had hatched for Murtagh seven months ago. Murtagh's anger drained from him and he was grateful that he could be with his dragon, alone high in the clouds with Aiedail, the Morning Star high above their heads. He didn't have anyone watching him or torturing him or Thorn now.

_How could I have lived without you? For nigh on nineteen years of my life without you, how could I have done that?_ Murtagh asked, tracing Thorn's blood red scales and the dragon's humming intensified.

He drifted downwards slowly and when he was a few hundred feet from the ground, he began to flap wildly and what vegetation there was bent and swayed from the pounding of his wings and Murtagh undid the straps on his legs, crouching on the saddle as Thorn's back tilted to a seventy degree angle for landing. He hit the ground with a thud and when he settled himself on the ground, Murtagh slid off Thorn and walked around him and sat down by his head. Thorn's vermilion eyes rested on Murtagh in a gentle way, losing their fierceness that they normally showed in battle or when Galbatorix or other company was present.

_Rest now my dragon, for we have a long day ahead of us,_ Murtagh said and Thorn's eyes started to drift shut, concealing the deep red orbs. He only closed his second set of lids so he was still aware of the happenings around him and if trouble arose, he could intervene in a second. Murtagh rolled onto his back, his head resting against Thorn's muzzle and he watched the skies lighten, once more concealing the stars and the sun began to rise on the horizon to begin its journey across the sky yet again.

_When we capture Eragon and Saphira, how should we get them back to Urû'baen? It will have to be through some means of magic at least, keeping a dragon and an elf-human crossbreed captive without true names will be very hard,_ Murtagh said to Thorn. He went into deep thought for a moment.  
_ I have an idea,_ said Thorn after a while. _Keep Eragon in the skies with us, Saphira will have no choice otherwise but to follow if she values her Rider's life, which she does without a doubt, and keep Eragon subdued so he can't escape. Knock him out, drug him, anything that'll work to get the two of them to Urû'baen._

_We will do it, even if we have to think it up on the spot_ Murtagh said _We have no choice, no say in even one little thing these days. We must change our true names, even if it is the death of us. You, nor I, will be Galbatorix's puppets forever. I swear it, in the language of no lies, that you will be free from that tyrant King, Thorn, even if it kills me._

_No,_ Thorn snarled, _I will not live one day of my life without you, you are my Rider and you do not have to die for me, for my happiness, I would rather be Galbatorix's slave for the rest of my life, to be tortured for hours each day, than live without you in my heart and mind for even an hour._ Thorn said and happiness washed over Murtagh. _I hatched for you when I rejected thousands of others, I did not respond to one single touch because I was looking for someone with a pure mind and spirit, no matter how depressed they are in that moment, no matter how angry he might have been at that second, I looked into people's very souls searching for the right person and here he sits, by my side, a true Dragon Rider, no matter the oaths he has swore to a twisted King, no matter who his father and siblings are, but who he is as a person and I am well pleased with my choice.__  
__ As am I,_ Murtagh said, wrapping his arms around Thorn's neck, never wanting to let go, never wanting to be parted with the person, the most important being in his life.

_No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own_. He remembered saying those words to Eragon after meeting him again for the first time in months, since he had first learned that Murtagh was now a Rider, since Murtagh had gained possession of Zar'roc, since Murtagh had discovered that Eragon had changed.

_Those words are true,_ he said to himself, scratching his gedwëy ignasia on his left hand. _No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own._

Thorn's sides gently rose up and down with his slow breathing, occasionally, he shifted to a more comfortable position, shuffling his wings and constantly wrapping and unwrapping his shortened tail around his legs.

_ I should heal that later, better now,_ Murtagh thought, getting up and crawling over towards Thorn's mutilated tail.

Thorn growled and moved his tail around to his other side. _The energy it would take to heal such a wound would be too demanding and would kill you Murtagh, maybe even if I lend you my strength.__  
__ I would ask the eldunayra for help,_ Murtagh said, reaching his mind towards the eldunayra in Thorn's saddlebags which he removed in battle to avoid the eldunayra falling into the wrong hands. Murtagh had been given twenty five eldunayra, ranging in smallish to medium size, over course, Galbatorix kept the strongest and the biggest to himself. Thorn's mind pushed away Murtagh's from the eldunayra.

D_o not,_ Thorn snarled, his voice fierce, _do this for me please._

_I am doing it for you, I will not have you wounded in battle because your tail was not whole, your balance is different and you would be very clumsy in the air when your life depends on those skills._  
Thorn's mind hesitated for a moment, and then drew back, allowing Murtagh access to the eldunayra.  
Angry thoughts and strong barriers greeted him when he came within speaking distance.  
_ Please listen!_ Murtagh cried desperately, _My dragon is wounded and his life may depend on this wound if it not healed, for his balance would be upset in battle when he flies, I ask, will you lend me your strength to help me with this task?_

Stony silence greeted him and Murtagh felt disappointed, he would break down their barriers if he had to but before he could launch his mental attack, another mind reached out to his. _Why would we help you when you have used us before in such cruel ways for your biding? Why would you slay our Rider's when you had not reason to but for your own greed?_ a female voice answered.

_I am not he who slew your Riders! He is far away and I will make you a promise if you help me, please aid me in two more tasks that require your great strength and afterwards, I shall send you to true death if you wish, to smash your Eldunayra and truly join your Rider's in the void_, Murtagh pleaded. A being poked at his mind, looking for information and afterwards, slowly with drew.  
_ It seems you are honest, Rider. I will help with my brethren but you must smash us after these two more tasks._

_I promise in the language of no lies._

_Very well, let us lend you our strength._

New energy flowed into Murtagh and he gasped at its magnitude and with new strength in his limbs, he turned towards Thorn's tail and began to chant in the Ancient language, about new flesh and bone, about the blood and muscles needed for Thorn's tail to be renewed and restored to former health. He crouched there for a long time, muttering complex vowels, verbs and syllables in the language and then release the magic, he himself feeling no fatigue but a huge drain of strength from the eldunayra, many were very weak afterwards and Thorn jumped and howled, his tail shimmering and as Murtagh watched, a small stump began to grow from where Thorn's tail ended, glowing a blinding white it continued to extend until his tail was once again whole and the light faded, showing Thorn's ruby scales and his tail as it had been before the golden dragon had bitten it off. It itched and burned, Murtagh could feel that through his connection with Thorn.

_Thank you,_ Thorn rumbled, expressing his thanks to Murtagh but particularly the eldunayra.

_You have strong and honest hearts, Murtagh Morzansson and Thorn crimson-wings do not let them become clouded with hate and anger,_ the female voice said, tried and exhausted.

_We thank you,_ Murtagh and Thorn said together. _Thank you._

_Yes and remember to think clearly and keep your thoughts and souls clear and do not darken them, even though you unwillingly serve the twisted King._

Murtagh felt her mind withdraw and he ran to Thorn and hugged him tight around the neck.

_Feeling better?_

_Yes, Murtagh,_ Thorn replied. _Now, let you and me fly to Surda._


	12. Chapter 12 -- Towards My Brother

_12_

**Towards my Brother**

_'No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own' _

**_– Eldest: Christopher Paolini_**

Murtagh tapped on Thorn's side when he had rested awhile after Thorn's tail had healed and the red dragon opened his eyes, swinging his head around to look at his Rider, flexing his tail.

_I am sorry, but we must be off again, we have rested for too long, I hope that flying will be easier now._

_Much, thanks to you and the eldunayra, _Thorn said and he lumbered to his feet, the ground shaking under his weight and Murtagh mounted his dragon so he sat in his normal seat in the junction of his shoulders. The dragon crouched, raised his wings and took to the air, his flying much more swift and stable now, thanks to his tail beginning completely healed of his injury. He flew with renewed vigour, driving his wings down hard and holding his tail how he used to. Thorn let out a roar of joy and spiralled upwards, fast to the clouds and shot through the cover and balance for a second, the sunlight glimmering on his scales and shinning through Murtagh's hair.

_Are we here to perform acrobatics or to fly to Surda? _Murtagh asked, grinning as he felt Thorn's happiness wash through him and into his entire being. Thorn gave a dragon grin, then angled himself south and flew faster than before. The wind whistled in Murtagh ears and he laughed and let go of the saddle, so only his strapped in legs prevented him for being blown off Thorn. Even so, he doubted for a second whether the leather would hold as he let go.

_This is what I was born for!_ Murtagh shouted, his heart hammering with excitement and adrenaline coursing through his limbs. Thorn roared once again, happy that his Rider was happy and he was happy that he and Murtagh could escape the horrors of their lives for a few days.

_This where you and I belong, _Thorn said, now simply gliding, flapping every once in awhile to keep their altitude at an even level. _Not in Urû'baen bound and forced to obey a twisted mind._

_Aye, _Murtagh replied, grabbing onto Thorn's spike again which acted as a handle for him to hold onto. Thorn began to hum once more and gently dipped below the clouds once again, gliding on an angle so he tilted a little to the west towards Feinster.

_How long do you think it will take to reach them my dragon? _Murtagh asked.

_We will reach them by dusk if we keep going at this pace,_ Thorn replied and Murtagh grunted his understanding, preparing for another long and uncomfortable day in the saddle.

_Drat, anyways, how is your tail?_

_Better, maybe better than ever, it is good to have it back its usual length so I no longer have to wobble and change my flying style to stay in the air._

_Good, _Murtagh said, shuddering in the cold air. _Do you wish for a riddle to distract yourself? I know Saphira likes riddles to keep her awake. _When he mentioned Saphira, a quick though flashed through Thorn's mind, something about sunlight and blue scales, but then he returned to the present.

_Yes please, what is your riddle?_

Murtagh thought for a moment.

_Very well, _Murtagh said, thinking hard. _You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I am dead. What am I?_

Thorn's annoyance bubbled through Murtagh and he kept the answer deep within his mind to prevent Thorn from finding it.

_Is it an onion? _Thorn said after awhile of being lost in thought.

_Yes,_ Murtagh said.

_Now, my turn. __How many times can you take away five from twenty five?_

_Easy, five._

_No, once because then would you would be taking it away from twenty._

_Gah! That's unfair! It was a trick question!_

_Riddles are trick questions, get used to it, your turn._

_Fine! You'll be sorry for that!_ _A cloud was my mother, the wind is my father, my son is the cool stream, and my daughter is the fruit of the land. A rainbow is my bed, the earth my final resting place, and I'm the torment of man. What am I?_

_You are very annoying, _Thorn said, thinking hard. _I don't know. What's the answer?_

_Rain, you dope._

_Ha ha, very funny, _Thorn said sarcastically. _Now mine, I __live without a body, I hear without ears, I speak without a mouth, to which the air alone gives birth to me. What am I?_

Murtagh was stumped at that, gnashing his teeth in frustration and he strained his mind, searching for the answer.

_Give up? _Thorn asked.

_No!_ _Never, _Murtagh said, thinking hard. _Fine, I don't know._

_An echo,_Thorn said simply and Murtagh groaned with exasperation.

_Bah! Good one, now it's my turn again-_

They went on exchanging riddles for the next hour or two and after that, they stopped so Thorn could have a quick drink and Murtagh could stretch his legs, then they continued their journey and a few hours later, they were soaring over the Jiet River in near darkness and Murtagh could see the Burning Plains many leagues off to his left. Seeing the place filled Murtagh with anger, his father had fought there once and slew so many Riders and Dragons with the very sword on his hip on that plain, and he had fought Eragon as well there and succeeded, just like Morzan had all of those decades ago.

Feinster and the Varden off to the right, their camp was full of campfires and activity, Murtagh squinted, trying to make out separate people, trying to find the bulky form of Saphira.

Thorn was flying low and fast, and then swung suddenly around a small mountain like hill towards a dimly lit camp which crawled with the Empire's soldiers, some signed up voluntary while others were dragged from their homes and force to serve the King.

Thorn's wings cause tents to creak and sway in the winds and men hurried forwards and from under Thorn, some to greet and others fleeing from the dragon as he crashed down on the ground, the thick muscles in his legs absorbing the impact. Murtagh slid down Thorn's side and a soldier came forwards, Murtagh could see by his armour that he was a captain and he gave a short bow towards Murtagh.

'Argetlam, it good that you are here, Galbatorix will be pleased with your speed.' he quavered as Thorn swung his head around, his eyes dark and angry again and Murtagh scowled at the captain, pulling on a strap on Thorn's saddle.

'We are hungry and tired captain, we both require rest and food and I will not stand around here in the dark exchanging pleasantries when my dragon and I have had a long journey.' Murtagh said into Thorn's side and he felt with his mind that the captain was nervous and scared of him and especially Thorn. Murtagh noticed out of the corner of his eye that the captain kept casting terrified glances at Thorn's ivory teeth and claws.

'Y-yes, sir! Food and mead shall be brought at once. You!' he barked at a soldier and Murtagh saw that he was around about Eragon's age, skinny and pale and he too was looking at Murtagh and Thorn in awe.

'Yes, sir!' he said, standing to attention.

'Get food here for Argetlam and red scales. How much meat for the dragon?' the captain asked Murtagh.

'A cow and two sheep will do,' Murtagh said flatly and the soldier hurried off, tripping on his own feet and looking back at the dragon and Rider.

_Scary boy,_ Thorn said and Murtagh mentally slapped him, struggling to keep his face expressionless.

'Where would my tent be, captain?' Murtagh asked, his voice dangerous and he turned around, one hand on Zar'roc and the other on his right hip. A bead of sweat trickled down the captain's brow.

'Th-this way, Argetlam,' the captain said, walking faster than normal away from Murtagh and he followed behind the captain at a leisurely pace, Thorn following close behind and growling at anyone who came close and got in his way, his eyes were cold and his pupils had narrowed to slits, he was showing his teeth and they glittered in the light cast by lanterns.

'Do the Varden know that the camp is here?' Murtagh asked the captain.

'Not as far as we know,' he said in a quaking voice.

'I need a straight answer captain, yes or no?'

'N-no, not as far as we know.'

'You are avoiding the question; I want an answer, now!' Murtagh shouted the last word and the captain took several steps back, terrified and Thorn came up behind Murtagh, a growl deep with his chest and his eyes glittered with anger.

'No,' the captain said with as much force as he could muster but which still contained a waiver, neither Thorn nor Murtagh relaxed at that.

They came up next to a tent that was black and had Galbatorix's symbol stitched onto the flap: a tongue of flames. There was a space big enough for Thorn to curl up and he paced around the area, ripping the earth apart with his claws to make the ground more comfortable to lie on. He settled himself down and laid his head on the ground, his gaze never leaving the captain.

'Leave us now,' Murtagh said and the captain walked away to the other tents, looking relieved and moving as fast as he could without running.

_You are building quite a reputation up,_ Thorn noted and Murtagh grunted in understanding, removing Thorn's saddlebags and storing them inside the tent, and then took off the saddle and Thorn's enormous relief washed through Murtagh as he disappeared inside the tent once more to stash away the saddle in the corner.

_The food's here,_ Thorn murmured and Murtagh once again exited the tent to find several of the soldiers holding a cow, two sheep and a plate of food. Thorn swung his head towards the animals and they strained against their ropes, bleating and mooing in terrified tones. The soldiers struggled to keep hold of them and Murtagh quickly spread out his mind and forced the animals to be still, much to the relief of the soldier's but they scattered when Thorn swung his tail around and smashed it, hard, into the two sheep and they died instantly as their spine's snapped. Thorn then took the cow's head in his jaws and crunched its skull, hot blood spilling into his mouth. Murtagh returned to himself, not showing any emotion at what had just happened on his face but inside he felt disgusted at sharing the thought's of those animals and the pain he had felt as Thorn had killed them.

The soldiers were looking in awe at Thorn and Murtagh walked forwards, snatching his plate and a mug of mead away from two soldiers who were holding them and they backed away then scurried into the mass of canvas.

_You were saying?_ Murtagh said, ripping into half a loaf of bread that had been placed on his plate, swirling more into a pool of gravy on the side.

_Hmm? Oh yes, your building up quite a reputation for us,_ Thorn said, cracking one of the cow's leg bones and licking inside it for the marrow.

_With your help of course, _Murtagh said

_Yes, anyway, when should we attack the Varden?_

_We should catch them off their guard so they have little time to prepare, like last time, Eragon is sure to have heard of the Rider and dragon's deaths by now and will think we are still in Urû'baen, that was little over a week ago and this would be the least time they would be expecting an attack._

_True, capturing them should be easy then, _Thorn said.

_Aye. I should ask what the plan is and change it if it is not to our liking._ Murtagh licked his fingers and the sticky gravy tasted good.

He stood up and Thorn turned his eyes towards his partner, his muzzle covered in blood and half a cow in his front legs.

_I'll wait for you,_ Murtagh said and stood by watching Thorn finish his meal for the next half hour as the remaining meal disappeared down his throat, he then got to his feet and they set off towards the main command pavilion, soldiers shrinking from them as they passed and Murtagh could not help but feel a stab of pride and power.

He and Thorn arrived at the command tent and Murtagh could hear some sort of argument going on and he paused to listen.

"...and his cursed red dragon ordering our men about as if we were his slaves, I will not have it!" someone said in a dangerous voice.

"They only answer to Galbatorix himself and you should consider it an honour that Galbatorix should choose this section of his army to host Murtagh and Thorn," someone else replied, struggling to keep his voice sounding calm but Murtagh could tell that he was close to shouting.

"No! I will tell Galbatorix myself what is happening and how we should get rid of that Rider and dragon, the men are frightened, he has a horrible temper and if he was standing in front of me, I would spit at him and tell him to go away! Not only that, but he is Morzan's child! That in itself is enough to disturb the men!"

"You were saying?" Murtagh said, coming into the tent to find four people gathered around a table which was covered in maps, notes and pots of coloured ink to show where to send troops and all. The men froze where they stood and the one who was speaking had whipped around, his eyes going wide in horror when he saw who he entered. He flung himself to the floor, crouching low by Murtagh's boots.

"Please! I did not mean that! I-"

"Get up," Murtagh spat and he lashed out with his boot with the speed of an elf and his foot connected with the man's jaw. There was a sickening crack and the man collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth and his jaw hanging open, clearly broken.

He backed away from Murtagh and cowered down in the corner of the tent, tears flowing down his cheeks and his eyes full of hatred. Murtagh returned his gaze to the rest of the men and walked over to them, their faces blank with shock and their eyes wide. Murtagh leaned on the table, his eyes flicking around the table.

"I trust you know of the King's wish to capture Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira, last of the female dragons?"

They nodded, vigorously and fast.

"Then I have a plan to make the King's vision become reality."


	13. Chapter 13 -- Assault

13

**Assault**

_With that Gandalf returned to the others, who were still standing by the Orcthanc-stone in troubled thought. "Peril comes in the night when we least expected," he said. _

**_– The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers: J.R.R Tolkien_**

Eragon came out of Nasuada's pavilion very late that evening, bored, tired and frustrated. Plans for battle tactics swam around in his head and the whole meeting had been about what the Empire would do next, and whether Thorn and Murtagh had arrived yet.

"Well, considering that Thorn is missing three feet of his tail, their progress would be slower than usual so if I'd had to put a time on when they would arrive, it would be by tomorrow if Thorn was flying at top speed in his condition," Eragon summarised, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Since when did you learn so much about dragons and their aerodynamics?" Roran had asked and everyone had burst out laughing and Roran had grinned in response.

"Being bonded with a dragon leaves its marks," Eragon smiled.

"Now back on topic, what do you think is Murtagh and Thorn's most likely plan of attack?"

Eragon smiled at the memory and Saphira came around the tent, the moonlight shinning off her armour. The stars were shining brightly above their heads and Eragon looked towards the heavens and Saphira followed his gaze.

_They're beautiful and so clear tonight aren't they? _Saphira asked.

_Aye. That they are._

Eragon rocked back on his heels and set off towards his tent, Saphira following close behind.

_I'll oil that armour of yours now if you want._

_Yes, do please. I hate it creaking and it has grown heavy and I wish for it to be removed at least for a little while._

_Come then, Saphira. _

Eragon ducked inside his tent and returned outside and was about to pull off one of the plate of Saphira's armour when it happened.

A red fireball shot down and exploded among the Varden's tents and catching many alight and destroying just as much in an instant. Eragon felt many minds extinguish in a blink. Eragon dashed back inside his tent and seized his helm and jammed it onto his head as Saphira roared and he swung himself into the saddle on Saphira's back and she jumped up instantly, roaring her challenge for all to here. Eragon quickly did up the leg straps on the saddle with a quick spell and from his vantage point and with his enhanced vision, Eragon could see that the whole camp was in complete chaos.

People reached for their weapons instantly and ran through the camp towards arranged meeting points if an unexpected attack took place. Screams and wails were echoed everywhere and Eragon looked skywards just as a shadow passed over the moon, that of a huge dragon, fire flickering in his maw. From the colour of the fire, Eragon knew who it was and Saphira winged her way towards Thorn as fast as she could, panting from the effort and Thorn whipped his head around as he saw her coming, snarling at her and Eragon looked towards the Rider on the red dragon's back. Murtagh had his helm on and he took it off to speak to Eragon, Zar'roc shining in his hand.

"I give you one more for you to come peacefully to Urû'baen otherwise, we have no choice but to force you to; will you come without a fight brother?"

Eragon showed no emotion at Murtagh saying 'brother' but he felt a little calmer; knowing that he was not fully related to Murtagh and Morzan was not his father.

"Never," he spat and Thorn shifted his position and Eragon and Saphira saw in dismay that Thorn's tail was once again whole.

_Not only that, he is also bigger, _Saphira noted.

"Then you give us no choice, Morzansson, let us fight then, now let us make this fight a decider," Murtagh said coldly and replace his helm on his head and Eragon drew Brisingr from its sheath, the blue brightsteel shining in the moonlight. Eragon saw Murtagh's eyes glint as he saw Eragon's new sword and Saphira drew her head back and blasted a tongue of flame at Thorn and surging forwards at the same time. As had happened last time, the fire parted harmlessly around Murtagh and Thorn but as it cleared, Saphira crashed into Thorn with all of her weight and sent Thorn tumbling towards the ground, she snapped at him and dug her claws into his chest. Thorn's eyes glinted in pain but with his head, knocked Saphira away, leaving her dazed as she lost her grip on Thorn and flew a short distance away, then turned again and once more, collided with the red dragon. They grappled with each other and Eragon struggled to keep his balance as the dragons twisted and turned and Eragon and Murtagh had the opportunity to exchange blows, Brisingr and Zar'roc clashed in a shower of sparks and Eragon shoved Murtagh away with Brisingr, then launched a mental attack and rammed into strong barriers surrounding Murtagh's mind, Eragon sensed the eldunayra in Murtagh's mind, always murmuring , their thoughts confused but clearer than they had been the last two times they had fought and Eragon wondered why.

Thorn roared as Saphira hit him across the chest with her tail and her retreated a short distance, then crashed into Saphira and they continued to grapple, falling fast towards a battle now raging against the Varden and the soldiers of the Empire. Several people looked up as the two dragons plummeted towards the ground and they scrambled out of the way as Thorn struggled to get on top of Saphira who snarled in return, also fighting to get Thorn underneath her. Thorn had the upper advantage due to his size and slowly, surely, turning Saphira around so that she was underneath him.

Eragon realised a split second later what he was trying to do.

'Disengage, Saphira!' he shouted.

_I can't; his grip is too tight. _Saphira replied, an edge of panic in her voice. Thorn was snarling with the effort to keep Saphira beneath him and Eragon could see Murtagh looking down from Thorn's back, only his eyes were visible and they contained triumph.

_Saphira, I have an idea, blow fire at Thorn and when he's distracted, flip him upside down._ Eragon said quickly and Saphira obliged by opening her jaws and releasing a jet of bright blue fire. Thorn did get distracted and his grip faltered a little and Saphira righted herself so Thorn was in the position that she had been in seconds before. Eragon now looked down on Murtagh and pure fury showed in his eyes and Eragon felt a pull of satisfaction as they continued to plummet downwards.

The ground was only a few hundred feet away and Thorn was now redoubling his efforts to climb above Saphira again and he then tried the tactic Saphira had used. Thorn's ruby red flames passed harmlessly around Saphira and the bright fire cause Saphira to falter for a split second so Thorn managed to wheel half way around so that they were now on equal levels. Eragon looked down and his heart faltered as he saw that they were a few seconds away from crashing. He automatically started to chant a spell and hear could tell Murtagh was doing the same. Eragon muttered furiously under his breath and just had time to complete the spell before the crashed into the earth. His teeth jarred at the impact and the spell he had used to make the landing a lot softer had drained a lot of his strength. He reached towards Brisingr's pommel and cursed when he found its energy storage depleted.

_Aren, _Saphira grunted and Eragon immediately stretched towards Aren and replenished his strength and Saphira stood up and leapt into the skies with Thorn close behind her, panting hard and flapping his wings quickly to gain altitude. Saphira twisted around and blasted a jet of fire at Thorn and he swerved to the side but still maintained a steady pace towards Saphira.

Growling in frustration, she folded in her wings and tipped forwards and collided head on into Thorn and sent him once more downwards and every time he tried to fly above Saphira, she blocked his path and clawed at him, scratching at his eyes and at Murtagh who slashed with Zar'roc every time her talons came close to him. All the while, Eragon continued his siege on Murtagh's mind and sent waves of immense power at him every time Saphira grabbed at him and he swung Zar'roc in retaliation.

Eragon was frustrated that every time he tired to gain access to Murtagh's mind, he retaliated forcefully and Eragon then had to go on the defensive. The battle continued the rage in their minds as well as the dragon's battle as they grappled with each other. Every now and again, Murtagh and Eragon came in range of each other and exchanged a couple of blows before Thorn and Saphira shifted their positions so their Rider's were once more out of range.

Thorn snarled and threw back his head and let lose a jet of bright red fire illuminating the night skies and Saphira swerved around the inferno; Eragon could feel that her wing muscles burned with exhaustion and the corners of her mouth were covered in foam; her armour was dented in places and she had received several cuts on her wings and one under her jaw. If she was in bad shape, Thorn was in worse; blood covered his scales and dripped on his talons and his wings too were punctured in many places and the wounds weeped tears of blood. His chest was bleeding where Saphira had dug in her claws and he had numerous gashes covering his body since he had no armour and he too was foaming at the mouth.

Saphira once again dived for Thorn and he swung out of the way just before Saphira hit him and he quickly flapped above Saphira and sank his claws along her spine, having difficulty because of her armour, and hit her wing with his tail causing a sickening crack and pain exploded in Eragon as Saphira's wing broke. She howled in pain and Thorn roared in triumph and drove Saphira towards the ground and when Thorn had broken Saphira's wing, Murtagh had gained access to Eragon's mind and had paralysed him, making him unable to heal Saphira and they landed on the ground, Thorn holding down the blue dragon and she tried to move away from him.

Murtagh jumped down from Thorn and seized Eragon and took away Brisingr.

Nasuada saw Eragon and Saphira fall and cold fear washed through her.

Roran saw Eragon and Saphira fall and numb shock echoed through his mind.

The dwarves saw Eragon and Saphira fall and they paused in their actions to stare horror struck at what they were seeing.

The Varden saw Eragon and Saphira fall and they gave a great groan of despair.

Orrin saw Eragon and Saphira fall and lost his concentration for a second and one of the Empire's soldier's threw a javelin which went through his thigh.

The Urgals saw Eragon and Saphira fall and they roared in rage.

Arya saw Eragon and Saphira fall and her heart stopped for a second, her shock and fear rushing through her like a wave.

_I love him, _she thought and tried all the harder to fight towards the Rider and Dragon.

The Empire's soldiers saw Eragon and Saphira fall and they gave a cheer of triumph.

Eragon was dimly aware of the Empire's soldiers clearing a circle around him and Saphira and Murtagh casted spells of binding and power on them and lifted them into the air, transporting them back across the opposite side of the plain towards the Empire's camp. He removed his helm and a look of deep satisfaction showed on his face.

Saphira's pain was coursing through Eragon and that was the only thing he was really concentrating on.

_I have failed, _he thought. _ I have failed. _And then he lost consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14 -- Journey to Urû'baen

14

**Journey to Urû'baen**

_I slept there for a long time. Three days, they told me…and what did I find when I woke up? Not a man, but someone else standing over me._

**_ – The Book Thief: Markus Zusak_**

Eragon awoke suddenly from his waking dreams. At first, he was disorientated and groggy and there was the taste of blood in his mouth, then he registered a dull throbbing on his left side and he gazed around to look at his surroundings. He was wearing a sack cloth shirt and his hands were bound behind his back and he had cotton pants on. He was lying on his side and moving; the sounds of clanking armour and trudging footsteps could be heard as well as the braying of a donkey somewhere off to his right. He could also hear voices and sniggering and as he watched, a shadow passed over his vision.

_Saphira! _Eragon yelled mentally and then her consciousness wrapped around his own.

_Eragon! Little one! I was so worried; you had not stirred for some time now._

_Where are we? What's happening?_

_Little one, you are by my head. _As she said it, Eragon saw here sparkling sapphire scales and he turned his head to look into her eyes. They smiled kindly back at him. Her mouth was bound with a thick iron muzzle just like it had been when the Ra'zac had captured them all of that time ago.

_Where are we? _ Eragon repeated and Saphira's dread rushed through him.

_They are transporting us to Urû'baen, little one, to go to the King._

_What?_

Eragon sat up quickly and turned around to face Saphira. Her wing was bent at a crooked angle and he sucked in his breath at the sight of it. She was bound tightly with black iron chains to a wooden board which was being pulled along by a team of mules and ranks of soldiers surrounded them.

A few of them looked around and saw that he was awake and they jeered at him, wolf whistling and pointing at him and Saphira snarled at them, smoke coming out of her nostrils and between her teeth and they went silent, still muttering and sniggering at them. Eragon gave them a flat stare and rage bubbled inside him and he tugged at his wrists but the rope didn't give way. He concentrated on them and was about to break them, but he couldn't reach for the magic and the words died in his mouth.

_Drugged. _

Eragon sighed in frustration, wrenching at his bonds and only succeeding in drawing blood.

'Well, well, well, look at the famed Rider and dragon now, bound and captured so easily and so helpless,' a voice said and Eragon look up to see Murtagh sneering at him, having climbed on the platform and he was now gazing down at his half-brother with hatred.

'It seems that I am the victor of this match, brother, and I have succeeded in my task of capturing you and your dragon. Galbatorix will be please with my work and Thorn's,' he said poisonously and then he prodded Saphira's broken wing with his toe and Eragon and Saphira roared in pain. Eragon tried to kick Murtagh but he jumped out of the way and Eragon scooted forwards a few centimetres from the momentum of the kick. Murtagh stepped forwards once again towered above Eragon.

'You weakling,' he snarled, then spat on Eragon and walked away and hopped off the platform and barked some orders to the mule drivers and they started to pull and shove to make the animals go faster. Saphira moaned and Eragon crawled over to her and she sheltered him in her undamaged wing, the gashes in the membrane had stopped bleeding and they were scabbed and rough to the touch. She swung her head around and Eragon shuffled closer to Saphira, her body warm and her heart beating fast with terror.

_What have we got ourselves into, Saphira? _Eragon cried and she began to keen in a low voice, every now and again nuzzling her little one and Eragon curled up beside her. Saphira closed her eyes and hummed low, deep and mournful.

_This is my fault, little one, _Saphira said suddenly. _Because of my flying, we were captured and because of me, we have to pay the price._

_No, Saphira, it was not you, my rash actions are what causes us to be here now, I should have contacted the elves first and they could have helped us._

_No, my careless flying caused my wing to be broken and because of that, Murtagh could access your mind and control you because of it._

_No, it was Galbatorix who did this, a whole world living in fear because of one mad man, because he could not face what happens in life and could not bear to accept it. Brom went mad with grief when his Saphira died but he didn't try to kill everyone, did he? Many Riders and dragons had lost their partners in battle but they didn't try to conquer everything, _Eragon spat.

_What Galbatorix has done is inexcusable, slaying so many dragons and Riders for his quest for power and revenge because he thought it was the elder's fault that Jarnunvösk was killed by Urgals, _Saphira added in distain, growling as well. She shook herself slightly and winced in discomfort as her wing shifted in position.

_Don't move, Saphira, you'll only hurt yourself more, _Eragon said and the ghost of a smile lit up in her eyes.

_Always worrying for me and his family, the great Dragon Rider, saviour and servant of the people, _Saphira said and Eragon kicked her gently in the side.

_Shut up... _he grumbled, smiling and looking up at Saphira. _How long ago was the battle?_

_Two days ago, _Saphira replied.

_I've been unconscious for two days? _Eragon exclaimed._ Where in Alagaësia are we?_

_We're about half way to Urû'baen now, _Saphira replied, her voice full of dread.

Eragon paled at that and he struggled all the harder to pull of the ropes around his wrists.

_Dammit! Whoever did these bindings is good at tying knots! _Eragon growled.

_Murtagh did those, _Saphira said. She spat Murtagh's name.

_Aaah, he was always good with knots, _Eragon said and he huddled closer to Saphira, watching the land go past and every once in a while, he saw Murtagh and Thorn fly over head. Murtagh hadn't healed Thorn's wings either and Eragon had a nagging suspicion that Murtagh had left Thorn's wings like that for show. Saphira's nostrils started smoking every time she saw Thorn and Murtagh and she fought against her chains every time, and her wing had exploded with fire every time she moved it.

_And to once think, _she growled at one point,_ that that egg-breaker once travelled peacefully with us all the way to the Varden and he rescued you from Gil'ead._

_Aye, I still do not wish to fight him, but we must, _Eragon said. Saphira flicked her eyes towards him and they radiated concern and love.

The sun passed across the sky and they continued to travel swiftly along roads and fields and when night fell, they stopped for only a few hours and a loaf of stale bread was given to Eragon and nothing was given to Saphira. At dawn, they started to march again and as they drew closer to the capital, farms dotted the surrounding area and when the soldiers passed by with the captive dragon and Rider, people dropped their tools and paused in their work, staring at Eragon and Saphira, once, a farmer had charged at the soldiers, a hoe raised above his head.

"How dare you! Curse you and that mad King!" he had shouted and he had been cut down quickly and Eragon felt ashamed, one other man had died for him, him of all people, a poor farm boy, the bastard son of a Rider and a woman from the slums of life. Saphira looked at him pitifully at that as she felt him emotions roll over her.

_Eragon, you must stop thinking of yourself as a poor farm boy, that's the past, you are now a Dragon Rider, a great warrior who has laid down his harvesting tools and taken up a sword instead and who fights for the freedom of Alagaësia now. Remember, I hatched for you when I did not respond for one person of the thousands that laid their hands on my egg for over one hundred years. Who slew Durza when many others, including Ajihad, had failed? Who drove off Murtagh and Thorn? Who slew the Ra'zac? You did, this is you now, _Saphira said.

_You are right as always, Saphira. But all of those things you said I had help with, from you, Arya, the elves and Roran._

_You are the people's hope, just demonstrated by that man who was prepared to charge at the soldiers with no support to show his beliefs that you are the person that holds the future of Alagaësia._

Eragon sighed._ I'm glad that you will be besides me all the way through this, how could I have lived without you for all of those years? You are my other half that was missing and here you are now, that I am grateful for._

By late evening, Eragon could make out a dark spot on the horizon with his hawk like vision which could only be one thing.

_Urû'baen, _Eragon murmured and Saphira shifted her head and she too could see the city even though the soldiers couldn't yet. An hour of silence between Eragon and Saphira later, the shout went up that they were nearly at the capital and a loud cheer went up, Eragon gnashed his teeth in discomfort at the volume of the noise. Saphira's breathing quickened as they drew ever closer to the city, fires burned in the windows of many houses and farms littered the foot of the great city.

The basic structure of the city spiralled upwards towards the heavens and at the very top of the city sat a great palace made of black marble. The houses were arranged on levels around the main palace and they too reached upwards towards the main building.

Eragon was impressed by Urû'baen and it seemed Saphira was as well.

_It is time,_ Eragon said and Saphira echoed his dread as every step took them closer to the Dark King. A shout went up inside the city and the great oaken gates which were each fifty feet tall swung inwards to reveal cobble stone streets which were clean and tidy, Eragon thought that the place was well ordered and gave an aura of authority.

The wooden platform that Saphira was tied to stopped suddenly and Thorn dropped out of the skies with Murtagh on his back. Murtagh stepped forwards and grabbed Eragon who kicked Murtagh and pounded him on the back as he hoisted Eragon over his shoulder and jumped off the platform, then dumped him down and drew Zar'roc and pointed the tip to the hollow of Eragon's neck. Murtagh turned towards some of the soldiers.

'Undo those chains on the dragon. Oh, and Saphira,' he said, now directing his speech at her,"'if you make one move to snatch Eragon away or harm one soldier, I will kill your Rider."

Saphira snarled at him and the soldiers cautiously untied her from the platform. She growled at them but did as Murtagh instructed, her broken wing hanging down by her side as she stood up. Murtagh turned back towards Eragon.

'Get up,' he spat and Eragon rose from the ground, out of fear about what would happen to Saphira if he disobeyed.

Murtagh turned back towards Saphira, and then his gaze fell on the soldiers who cowered slightly under his stare. 'I need a spellcaster,' he said and a man stepped forwards, wearing robes of midnight blue. 'Heal the dragon's wing.'

The spellcaster bowed his head slightly then muttered a spell in the ancient language and Saphira's wing bones healed themselves. She shuddered as the magic took effect and she folded her wing back into place and Eragon could feel her relief course through him. She shifted her weight slightly and Murtagh dug Zar'roc into Eragon's neck, drawing a small trickle of blood.

'I don't think so, Saphira,' he clucked. 'Move,' he hissed at Eragon and gave him a poke in the back and Eragon stumbled forwards, Zar'roc now pointing at his back and an escort of soldiers lead the way up Urû'baen's streets. Thorn kept a constant watch on Saphira. People filed out of their houses to watch the procession pass, they were all rich people, Eragon noticed, dressed in fine clothes and adorned with jewels, the street always ascending and after walking through the houses.

They finally reached a space that had been cleared and at the far end of the courtyard was a set of black marble steps and on top of those steps stood a man garbed in fine robes which had been stitched with gold thread and his eyes glittered as he saw Saphira, then his gaze rested on Eragon.

Murtagh forced Eragon to his knees and retreated a small distance, still pointing Zar'roc at him and the man began to descend the steps, his footsteps loud to Eragon's ears and Saphira snarled as the man reached the bottom of the stairs, and he then walked the small distance towards Eragon and he forced himself to look up at the man. He knew who this man was, he had seen his face countless times on coins and Galbatorix stared back at him, his hands clasped in front of him.

'Arise, Dragon Rider,' Galbatorix said smoothly and Eragon staggered to his feet, giving a murderous look at the King. He took in Eragon's appearance interestedly and he then turned to Murtagh who gave a quick bow towards the King and Eragon saw that fury burned in Murtagh's eyes as he looked at Galbatorix.

'Finally, you have succeeded, Murtagh,' Galbatorix said and reached towards Murtagh and he angrily took a step backwards and the King's hand faltered. 'It seems that you hold no respect for me, tut tut, I expected better of you, and,' he turned his gaze towards Eragon, 'I expected you to look more ... intimidating,' Galbatorix sneered at Eragon and Eragon gave the King a look of pure hatred.

'Bring Eragon and Saphira inside, now. And replace those bonds,' Galbatorix said to Murtagh, pointing to Eragon's wrists and a soldier hurried forwards with a set of manacles and cut away the ropes with a small knife then quickly slipped on the manacles. Murtagh was behind Eragon and he was forced to obey and he once again pointed Zar'roc at Eragon and Thorn gave a low growl at Saphira. The five of them entered Galbatorix's place and Eragon had to admit it looked magnificent. A beautiful garden greeted them on the other side of another set of double doors and a statue of the King rested in a fountain, water spraying out of his hand. Galbatorix swept around this and continued to another set of double doors, his cloak billowing behind him.

Galbatorix waved his hand and the doors opened to show a magnificent throne room with a high ceiling and which was also designed out of black marble. Galbatorix climbed steps which lead to his throne and he sat down, his eyes complementing the Rider that knelt before him. Murtagh hurried forwards and gave Brisingr to the King, bowed and backed into a corner. Galbatorix examined Brisingr from tip to pommel and Thorn and Saphira came in behind Eragon and Murtagh. Saphira was pushed roughly onto the floor and Thorn settled himself onto of her.

'So pretty and excellent craftsmanship. I doubt you deserve this, Eragon, perhaps I shall keep it for this is a fine sword,' Galbatorix said thoughtfully, looking Brisingr up and down.

Eragon raised his head and his voice hoarse and weak said, 'Get your hands off it.'

Galbatorix raised an eyebrow and his dark eyes glittered as he saw the name of the sword. 'Brisingr … I expected better of you, Eragon. Fire?'

Eragon stared hard at Galbatorix, his mind and body were too weak from fatigue and the drugs in his system that he could only look at Galbatorix with rage, the manacles dug into his wrists and he could just see Murtagh in the corner of the room, standing in the shadows. Saphira whimpered and her chains rattled as Thorn pushed more of his weight onto her chest.

Galbatorix propped Brisingr next to his throne and turned his gaze back to Eragon. He stood up and slowly walked down the steps that ascended to his throne as walked towards Eragon, his footsteps loud to Eragon's ears on the marble floor. Eragon closed his eyes and he heard the footsteps getting closer to him and stopped just by his head. Eragon opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to see Galbatorix looming over him. He paused for a second, and then kicked Eragon hard in the ribs, winding him and making him howl.

Galbatorix squatted down next to him and looked at Eragon's soft brown eyes in which swum clouds of anger and hatred. Galbatorix sneered at him, then straightened up and turned around.

'Murtagh, take him to an empty cell in the top security section, now,' Galbatorix ordered and Murtagh sidled out from the shadows and pointed at Eragon and murmured, 'Rïsa,' under his breath and Eragon started to hover several inches above the ground. Saphira's nostrils started to smoke and jets of fire shot out of them and between her bared teeth. Eragon thought he saw pity in Murtagh's eyes and he murmured so softly that Eragon barley heard him, 'I'm so sorry,' he said in the ancient language, 'Please understand.'

In the far corner of the room behind a tapestry, a woman's eyes widened in horror and she quickly stepped back as the King turned his head.


	15. Chapter 15 -- Feelings of Loss

15

**Feelings of Loss**

_'Edie. We don't have time for this. We need to come up with a plan. We have to rescue the Gunner. If we don't find him and get him back on his plinth by turn o'day, by midnight –'_

_'I know. He's a dead statue. He'll never move again. I know, George. I'm not stupid.' _

**_– Iron Hand: Charlie Fletcher_**

'No, no, no! This cannot be happening!' Nasuada cried, pacing around the pavilion still in her armour which she had refused to remove for the past few days her stress was so great.

'My Lady Nasuada, the battle was four days ago, they are gone. I am sorry, but there is nothing we can do,' Jörmundur said softly. 'It has gone and happened, there is nothing you can do.'

'I can pray,' she spat at Jörmundur, then turned away and began pacing again. Roran's face was stony and he was silent, twirling his hammer between his hands and tapping in against his thigh, his eyes had a dead look and his beard was tangled and unkempt, the capture of his cousin had left its toll, not just on him, but on all of the Varden, and the only person that was more worried than Roran was Arya.

She had dark circles under her eyes for she had barely slept for four days now, she too was still in her armour and she had barely eaten a thing. She cried most of the time now, softly cursing Murtagh and Galbatorix under her breath and her raven hair had lost a lot of its shine. Her eyes were full of tears now and every once in a while, she gave a small hiccup, took a deep breath, and then returned to her own world; Arya's sorrow was the worst of all of the Varden's.

The camp had been eerily silent and every day, Arya would pass Eragon's tent and be expecting to see Saphira curled up outside and Eragon striding out of his tent, brushing all of her worries away, or practicing his swordsmanship with Brisingr which never failed to attract a crowd. But all she saw those days was a patch of cold earth where Saphira had been absent from for awhile now and Eragon's tent stood silent and empty, the canvas ruffed in the breeze but no Eragon came striding out as he did in her daydreams. Arya remembered lying in Eragon's arms just days ago, barely a week had gone by since then, his hair had brushed past her face and tickled her nose, and how he had laughed as she had fallen off Saphira and his face swam in front of her eyes after she had hit him, she remembered him saying in the ancient language, 'It was only a bit of fun!'

Arya hiccupped and began to rock back and forth in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in front of her , her eyes watering as one fact kept coursing through her, _I love him, I love him, I do._

Arya raised her eyes and the seat that Eragon normally occupied near Nasuada was empty and Arya saw that everyone's eyes kept straying towards the chair, Roran's frequently and his face was cold and hard.

Nasuada brought her fist down on the table with a crash and Arya jumped at the volume which brought her back to reality.

'We must send someone to Urû'baen to at least give us a look put on Eragon and Saphira's conditions, I will not have us preparing for the unknown,' she said coldly, daring anyone to challenge her authority.

'I agree with you there,' Nar Garzhvog growled, 'We cannot leave Firesword to this doom, after all he has done for all of our races, Urgralgra and dwarves, humans, elves and dragons alike. We face extinction if Shadeslayer dies.'

'And all of Alagaësia you forgot there, Garzhvog,' Angela said cheerfully, as if nothing was wrong though her face was grave. A smile tugged at everyone's lips, including Roran's but Arya didn't even give any signs that she had heard the herbalist.

'Then we must send someone in to keep us updated, but whom?' Jörmundur said seriously. Roran stood up, pushing his chair backwards.

'I will, he is my cousin and like a brother to me, I have known Eragon ever since I can remember and we spent long years together, we went through a lot of things together. I for one want to go to that damned city to at least see how he is.'

'No! I will not have one of our best generals in Urû'baen and get caught along with our Rider. Imagine if you were caught, how Galbatorix would hurt you and Eragon to get at the other, I will not take that risk,' Nasuada said to the table and Roran looked as if he was going to argue. 'I do not doubt your bravery, Stronghammer, but you are more useful among us for the moment, we must keep you with us for we cannot afford to lose our Rider and one of our best commanders, I will not allow it'

Roran slumped down into his chair, defeated, for he saw Nasuada's logic. Arya didn't respond but her heart longed to go to the capital but she was in the same situation as Roran, she would be used to get to Eragon if she was captured and it would destroy the elves if they heard that their princess had been captured, and she could imagine her mother's rage if she discovered her feelings towards Eragon.

'We should send someone that would be conspicuous so their identity will not be obvious; there would at least more than one person willing to lay his life on the line for Eragon,' Jörmundur said in a low voice and everyone huddled closer to hear his idea, but Arya did not, she could hear the conversation as if Jörmundur was speaking at normal volume and her mind strayed, she gazed out of the flap which Saphira's head once poked through and her feelings of loss and hopelessness doubled and it took all of her self control not to cry out in pain at that moment, to scream and curse Galbatorix until her throat was hoarse.

She gave a deep breath and she vaguely registered what the others were discussing, she had lost so much now, Eragon had opened the hole in her heart again which was now always present in her chest, it had torn and closed so many times now, nearly to be healed then it would reopen as a new loss came to her.

_All for the ravings of a mad man, _she thought, choking back more tears at this thought, these were the consequences of what was just a flight to Urgal territory, one that would change the entire fate of Alagaësia, unknown at that time.

_A blessing and curse, the Dragon Riders were, _Arya thought, her eyes growing wet once more and she hurriedly wiped her tears away, leaving her cheeks wet and the taste of tears on her tongue.

'Relath!' Nasuada called and a small boy hurried forwards, bowing slightly to Nasuada, 'Fetch Fembor and send him to my pavilion straight away.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Relath said, gave a quick bow, and then dashed out of the tent. Arya continued to stare moodily at the table, tracing the patterns of the wood and the table felt rough under her fingers. When she found a pattern which somewhat resembled a dragon's head, she pulled back her hand and returned it to her lap.

_Everything I see reminds me of them,_ she thought. _Oh, Eragon._ She remembered when he made a fairth of her and how she had smashed it in her rage, how he had tried to pursue her on the night of the Bloodoath Celebration, how she had wounded him with her answer, hearing his sobs as she walked away, and when he was about to battle Thorn and Murtagh on the day of Roran's wedding...What she had barely restrained herself from saying to him before he confronted the red Rider and Dragon.

_"I don't want to see you broken by Murtagh, I..." _and that was all that she had said to him. She hadn't realised her feelings towards him at the time fully but now, since four days ago, she knew what those feelings were, and she had felt them for Fäolin and how her heart had ripped in two when he died.

'Ah, excellent, Relath, you may go,' Nasuada's voice said in the distance and Arya was brought back to herself once more. She saw a well built man standing in front of Nasuada and he bowed low and deep.

'Milady,' he said slowly.

'Fembor, the Varden require your services, we ask you to go to Urû'baen and keep us updated on Eragon's status.'

'Of course, milady, when should I leave for the capital?'

'Tomorrow, we need Eragon and Saphira back as quickly as possible.'

'Of course, milady,'

Arya sat up a little straighter when she heard plans beginning put into place to extract Eragon and Saphira out of Urû'baen. She leaned forwards in her seat to listen to the plans being made and eagerly participated in the going ons and she came out of the pavilion late that night, stars shining above her head.

_They're beautiful; imagine flying through the night on dragon back._ At that thought, her sadness washed over her.

'Arya,' someone said behind her and she swung around, her hand flying to her sword but it was only Nasuada standing in the mouth of her pavilion. 'Come inside, I want to talk to you about…what's happened.'

Arya nodded then re entered the pavilion and Nasuada invited her to sit down at the table and Arya sat, sitting on the edge of her seat. Nasuada sat down opposite of her and she fidgeted with one of the straps of her armour.

'I am sorry,' Nasuada said slowly after a while. 'I truly am and we are all feeling it, every soul in the Varden, but you and Roran in particular. This is what I am sorry for, but, Arya,' she said in a soft voice. 'we need to put aside our sorrow for a moment, what I ask is not easy, but we must if are to defeat Galbatorix, and not be cast in chains and unable do anything if we are drowning in sorrow, if that had happened long ago, we would not be here now.'

'What you ask is nigh on impossible for me,' Arya said in a whisper. 'I have moved on from a love when he died barely a year ago, now it is too soon for me to be asked to do this again.'

'But we are in desperate need of your talents, Arya, you must and you will for the sakes of Alagaësia. Arya please, listen to me. You must set your sorrow aside for now, we will get him back, I promise,' she said, stretching out a hand and placing it on top of Arya's. She was glad for her comforting touch and Arya looked up to see Nasuada's eyes were somewhat wet. 'This could not have happened at a worst time; we need Eragon and Saphira more than ever, what with us taking Belatona and Dras-Leona so soon.'

'Yes, both are big cities,' Arya said.

There was knock on the front crossbeams of Nasuada's pavilion.

'A citizen from Feinster her to see you, Lady Nightstalker!' the Urgal out front bellowed and Nasuada sighed.

'Let them enter,' she replied, both women hurriedly wiping their eyes as a man came in the pavilion, he stood tall and proud and he marched towards Nasuada.

'Lady Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad, I speak for the peoples of Feinster for I am the second cousin of Lady Lorana and we have come to the decision, as a city, that we will join the Varden since the,...errr, absence of Eragon Shadeslayer. We know of your plans to take Dras-Leona and Belatona and we are willing to help to free our Lady and Alagaësia from that tyrant King,' he said.

Nasuada smiled and rose to her feet.

'We appreciate your help, your men, women and children will be welcomed into the Varden with open arms, you may walk back to your people with your head held high and tell them that if they are willing to join the Varden, they will not be turned away.'

The man bowed excitedly, then exited the tent and Arya could hear that he broke out into a run when he was out of the pavilion.

'Good fortune finally smiles upon us,' Nasuada murmured. 'We have now another entire city joining us, this will encourage more people to recruit, and we've never had more people join the Varden since it was first made.'

'This is indeed good news,' Arya echoed, watching the candle light dance on the canvas, how it sometimes sputtered then righted itself. 'Very good news.'


	16. Chapter 16 -- Memories

16

**Memories**

_'I longed for the hate that had kept me prisoner to cease and release me. For hate imprisons us, Fell, and what I did in life, tried to do, made a terrible purgatory for me, that bound me in a confusion tighter than your ropes,' _

**_– Fell: David Clement-Davis_**

Eragon woke and he groaned, his head spun and his throat burned from thirst and he studied his surroundings, blinking sleep from his eyes. He knew where he was and how he had gotten to his cell, never beings fully asleep, not since the Bloodoath Celebration.

He was lying on a wooden shelf in a bare cell except for a water pitcher and a bowl of, Eragon's stomach lurched, lukewarm stew. Eragon's mouth watered for he could sense that the meat was cooked perfectly, neither too tough nor too tender but he forced himself to turn away from it. He got up and crossed the cell, picked up the water and returned to the shelf and drank it from the jug. It soothed his throat and Eragon could taste the drug which the drink had been spiked with.

He set the pitcher down and leaned back against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths so his breathing calmed and he tried to stretch out his mind but bit back a curse as he remembered he couldn't do it. The drug was making his body slow and tried, as if he hadn't slept or rested for some while even though he was wide awake.

He stayed in that position for about half an hour and he came back to himself as he heard keys jangling in the lock on his door and heard it swing on his hinges and he opened his eyes to survey the visitors, and when he saw who they were, gave them a look of pure disgust. There were six of them, all beefy men dressed in chainmail and with swords at their sides and his heart sank as he saw one of them had a set of manacles.

'You, Rider!' one of the men spat at him.

'Aye,' he growled and he stood up in fluid movement and all of the men made a small step backwards.

_Ha! They're all bigger than me and terrified because a sixteen year old boy stands up and says 'Aye'? _Eragon thought but his face remained cold and hard.

'The King sends for ya,' the man said and took two steps forwards and when Eragon remained still, he continued forwards and as fast as he could. He set the manacles on Eragon's wrists and when he was done, looked thoroughly relieved. 'Come on,' he said and one of his buddies jabbed Eragon in the back with the head of a spear and Eragon stumbled forwards, then with the six guards around him, left the prison block and into the open air, closing the metal grate behind them.

The weather was grey and dismal as the seven men went through Galbatorix's palace and through the double doors that lead into the throne room. The Dark King was sitting on his throne and he shifted his gaze from a scroll he was holding in his hand to Eragon who looked back at him, his gaze cool.

'You may leave us,' Galbatorix said to his guards and they filed out and the door slammed behind them. Galbatorix still looked at Eragon, casting a calculating look at Eragon.

'Where is Saphira?' Eragon asked, Galbatorix smiled and pointed down.

'In the basement.' he replied and Eragon immediately tired reached out his mind, only to find out that he could not and the frustration must have shown on his face because Galbatorix gave a soft chuckled and Eragon strode forwards and Galbatorix muttered 'Thrysta.' and Eragon was sent spinning backwards and below, he heard a roar of pain which vibrated through the floor.

'Saphira!' Eragon muttered and he looked up to see Galbatorix quite relaxed in his throne, complementing him.

'Get up,' he spat and Eragon rose to his feet. 'You are pathetic, tut tut. I had hundreds of people lay their hands on Saphira's egg in a hope that she would hatch, rich people, important people, people who were loyal to me and to me only, not once did she respond and when I had heard that her egg had been stolen, I was at a disadvantage, I needed a female dragon, and Rider that she would hatch for that would be loyal to me and to me only.'

'You would have had a better chance at succeeding in find someone for Saphira to hatch for,' Eragon spat, 'if you had extended the offer to everybody, but it is fortunate you didn't.'

'You could say that, when I heard the blue egg was missing, I realised that mistake and I looked back on my own past. I was like you once, someone hardly recognised because of my status in life, I had two brothers and a sister, and when the Riders presented the dragon eggs to me when I was ten, I was delighted when one egg, a purple one was given to me and the Rider who was guarding the eggs told me that it would hatch in a few days time, you should have seen how excited I was, how my mother beamed at me, smiling and ruffling my hair, telling me how proud she was.

'My father and brothers were just as excited as I was but the only one who was disappointed was my little sister, she wanted someone to be able to confide in, and I had been that person for all of her life, and when she found out I was beginning whisked away to become a Rider, she was angry, and sad, "Why!?" she said to me, "I need you!" but I had no choice, no say in it. When Jarnunvösk hatched for me and I was branded with the gedwëy ignasia and I was spirited away, I remember her face, seven years old and she had tears streaming down it and she turned away from me and ran into the crowd. I longed to follow her but I had to go, my life wasn't in that small town anymore, my life lay ahead of me, with Jarnunvösk, to become a Rider. I only saw her twice more after that.

'When she turned ten I hoped that she would also be chosen to become one of us, a skinny lad of thirteen with a purple dragon waiting on the shores of Vroengard, waiting for the Riders to return with the new young ones which would become part of our Order, but she was not one of them.'

Eragon was transfixed by Galbatorix's story and was waiting, listening to hear more. Galbatorix's eyes were staring into the distance as he talked freely about his past, but at that pause, he returned to reality and looked Eragon up and down.

'The guards told me that you left your breakfast, Eragon, it was fortunate that I was feeling kind last night, so I asked the cook to make you a stew with the finest beef and gravy, yet you left it, why?'

'It's none of your business,' Eragon said. Galbatorix nodded and turned around, walking towards his throne.

'To get to the point,' he said, sweeping around when he reached the top of the stairs and settled himself onto the seat. 'I have brought you here this morning not to talk about my past, or indeed yours, but to find out about the Varden's plans, tell me Eragon.'

'And why should I tell you? You think that I will willingly tell you what the Varden are planning to do? No, I will not say anything.'

Galbatorix's lip curled up into a sneer.

'You must understand Eragon, that I do not like to ask questions twice, I will ask again and if I fail to hear the answer I want, I will have to force you to give me the correct answer and that experience will not be pleasant, now, tell me, what are the Varden's plans?'

'I have given you my answer and it will be the same once again, I will not tell you.' Eragon answered coolly.

'You give me no choice then.' Galbatorix said and Eragon braced himself; he knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't get a firm hold on his barriers because of the drugs and he regretted drinking all of that water this morning. He yelled as Galbatorix launched his consciousness at Eragon, but it did not contain the strength of just one man, but a lot of beings, the eldunayra, forced into slavery by Galbatorix.

Eragon's head exploded with fire and he clutched at it, trying to force Galbatorix out but utterly failing.

He howled and curled into a ball as Galbatorix shifted through his memories of everything, his childhood flashed before his eyes, his twelfth birthday when he had received the yew bow from Garrow which he had used for many years afterwards; when he had shot his first deer and how proud he had been; when he had cut his wrist when sharpening Garrow's scythe and the fatherly care that Garrow had shown him, sitting and talking to him as he bound Eragon's wrist.

The day when Saphira's egg had appeared before him and his curiosity to what it was, and of when she hatched and being branded with the gedwëy ignasia, he saw this again as he tried with all his might in the state he was in to push Galbatorix out, but he considered the effort, then continued his attack on Eragon's mind.

When he had returned from his first disastrous flight with Saphira and when he heard the news of Garrow's death, how he had run with Brom and when he had first used magic, and when Brom had died. When he had been a captive at Gil'ead and he had first seen Arya. His flight with Murtagh through the Empire was the next thing that Galbatorix pulled out of his memory hoard; and his horror when he found out Murtagh's heritage.

Then came the memory of when he killed Durza and the blinding pain as the Shade rent apart his back. Galbatorix withdrew then to Eragon's relief but he remained curled up, looking at Galbatorix with hate.

'Interesting,' Galbatorix murmured. 'Very interesting, the pain you felt when Durza sliced your back so you now have an identical scar to Murtagh's.'

He strode forwards and grabbed Eragon's shirt by the scuff of the neck and pulled out a short dagger and cut off the shirt and Eragon heard him suck in his breath as he saw Eragon's back smooth and unmarked. Eragon knew that Galbatorix was angry, the memory came back to him how Murtagh had recoiled from him when, on the Burning Plains, he had discovered that the scar on Eragon's back had been healed.

_Murtagh!_ Galbatorix roared with his mind, blasting apart Eragon's barriers again so he winced in discomfort.

_Yes?!_ he replied.

_Come, now!_ Galbatorix ordered. They waited in silence for a few minutes and then the double doors groaned on their hinges as they opened and Murtagh stumbled in, panting, he had obviously run to the throne room.

'Yes, Galbatorix?' he said to the floor, spitting the King's name.

'What is this?' Galbatorix hissed and forced Eragon around to show Murtagh his back, the scar gone. 'You knew of this, yet you did not tell me. I wondered why you stuttered when you returned from the Burning Plains, you knew that Eragon's back had been healed and yet you didn't tell me?'

Eragon looked over his shoulder to see Murtagh taking a step back, his eyes wet and Eragon knew that Murtagh was disappointed, to know that Eragon's words had been true about his scar being healed.

'Please,' Murtagh pleaded, falling to his knees as Galbatorix threw Eragon to the floor and now advancing on his half-brother.

'I do not easily forgive a liar, you know this, why do you think that I had you slash Oromis' back open, the more Rider's I have in that condition, the better. Kveykva!'

Eragon stared in horror as black lightning shot from Galbatorix's hand and struck Murtagh so he howled and beneath the room, Thorn roared in pain as Murtagh's pain bounced across their connection.

'No!' Eragon roared and Galbatorix's spell ceased as he turned around, a smile on his face, Murtagh collapsed on the ground, cursing the King under his breath as he pushed himself up with his hands.

'What brotherly love you show, Eragon. One of Morzan's sons protecting the other, I'm getting all emotional. I know that you are eager to be on the receiving end of this, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn.'

He turned back to Murtagh.

'Zar'rac!' he spat and Murtagh once again howled and he thrashed about, clawing at the air. Galbatorix laughed at Murtagh's discomfort and Eragon tried to crawl away but Galbatorix flicked his wrist at Eragon and he was thrown across the room, sliding across the floor and cracking his head on one of the many marble pillars holding up the ceiling.

Galbatorix ended his spell and Murtagh relaxed, quiet sobs raking his body. Eragon touched the back of his head and brought his fingers in front of his eyes to find them red and wet.

'Now, since you were so eager for me to show Murtagh some mercy, it is your turn to now experience what your brother his just gone through since you were eager to reduce his pain, this you have done, and the rest of my fury has to go somewhere, and I have found where to channel it out. Zar'rac!'

Eragon screamed as pain, unbearable pain filled every part of his body, ever nerve and vein was filled with fire, and it was like being branded with the gedwëy ignasia again. After what felt like hours, the pain ceased and he relaxed onto the cold marble floor, cursing and giving Galbatorix murderous looks.

'How fortunate for me, to have tortured Morzan's two sons today, and how I enjoyed it, Salcarthar!' Galbatorix barked and a thin man hurried forwards. 'Take these two to the cells, I do not wish to see them again today. Be gone!'

The man nodded and levitated the two brothers out of the throne room. Eragon's body ached and Murtagh groaned beside him and soon they had entered the dungeons. Murtagh was placed into a cell and Eragon was returned to his which was beside Murtagh's and Salcarthar ended his spell so that Eragon crashed to the floor.

'Guards! Watch these cells and let nobody in or out unless they are here on the King's orders.' The door slammed shut and Eragon hoisted himself onto the wooden shelf on which he had woken up on this morning. Eragon heard the tramping of footsteps outside his cell and the small clack as weapon shafts struck the stone floor.

_What have Saphira and I got ourselves into? _Eragon asked himself yet again.


	17. Chapter 17 -- Between Brothers

17

**Between Brothers**

_'You are not evil, Fell,' whispered Larka in the meadow, 'You have been robbed of love. Of Light'_

_ **– The Sight: David Clement-Davis**_

'Eragon! Oi, Eragon!' Eragon turned his head around to see Murtagh's face looking through the bars which separated their two cells; the gap was only about one foot up and across.

'What?' he growled, standing up to glare at his half-brother.

'You going to eat that stew? I can swap it for some bread and cheese, though I'd think that you'd want that.' Murtagh said, a hopeful look on his face. Eragon was puzzled; he thought the Murtagh was going to tease him, to gloat at him for the position he was now in.

'Why should I give it to you if I wasn't going to eat it anyway?'

'You are my brother; I thought that we were friends once, out running the Empire together, but yet, after all of that friendship, when you mourned me when you thought that I was dead, after all of that, why do you not answer my question?' Murtagh's voice had an edge to it, as if he was used to ordering people around.

'You killed Oromis, Glaedr and Hrothgar,' Eragon started to rant hotly, 'Thorn killed hundreds of the Varden, both on the Burning Plains and when you came to attack the second time, you took Zar'roc. If you want to change your true name, then you can start by taking that edge out of your voice,' Eragon snapped and Murtagh's eyes glinted with fury, he opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it, thinking better of it.

'Are you going to eat that stew?' he asked in a careful voice.

Eragon paused.

'No,' he said after a few seconds, bending down and picking up the plate of now stone cold stew and passed it through the gap while Murtagh eagerly handed him some stale bread and a block of cheese. Murtagh disappeared for view for a few minutes, the spoon clattering against the wooden bowl and Eragon tore at his bread, his hunger satisfying itself and after the meal, he felt slightly more at ease.

Murtagh reappeared at the window, an empty bowl in his hands.

'Thanks! That was a lot better than bread and cheese, why on Earth did you want to swap? Even though that was cold, I'd still think that you'd want it.'

'I don't eat meat anymore, only in the most demanding situations.'

Murtagh looked stunned.

'Why would you give up meat? Nearly every meal you and I have eaten has had some form of meat in it. Why give that up when it's in everyone's daily diets?'

'Have you ever shared the mind of a living being and felt it die and yet you still live on? When I experienced it, I thought back on my life, I thought how I could have bared to eat meat, knowing where it came from, knowing that an animal had been killed just because we can eat when you can find plenty of nutrients in plants, fruits and the bread and cheese I just eat.'

'I have shared the minds of animals as they die, but I am not put off it.' Murtagh shrugged.

'I doubt you would, since you are quite happy to lop off someone's head when it is not needed.' Eragon retorted.

'If you are talking about those slavers, I had reasons.' Murtagh replied, his voice a growl.

'You had no reason, except to satisfy your feelings.' Eragon said quietly.

'The main reason for my actions was so that slaver wouldn't blab about us and you being a Dragon Rider and all, it was best at that time to remove him from Alagaësia.'

'I could have made him swear oaths in the ancient language,' Eragon said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

'But that was months ago!' Murtagh said desperately, 'Please understand! Can we not put it behind us? It was a mistake on my part. Please don't hate me only over the life of a cruel and dishonest man.'

'Every life is worth living and saving,' Eragon snapped, wrapping a thin blanket around his shoulders and retreating to the far corner of his cell, the one furthest away from Murtagh and he sat down, irritated and he was still hungry, despite the meal he had just had.

Murtagh looked angry and he banged at the bars.

"Do you think-?" he started.

"Be quiet in there!" one of the guards outside roared, banging his weapon against the door and sliding open a peep hole to have a look at what was happening in the cell, his eyes narrowed and he closed the wooden block again and Murtagh scowled towards the door of Eragon's cell.

"Filthy guards," Eragon heard him mutter, almost to himself.

"If you want to change your true name," Eragon hissed, "then you have got to stop disrespecting everybody."

Murtagh gave Eragon a long look, and then was silent and he once again disappeared from view and Eragon walked over to where Murtagh had previously been. Murtagh had his back against the wall beneath the gap in the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest and he had wrapped his arms around them.

"Who was that man who brought us here to the cells?" Eragon asked and Murtagh looked up at him, half getting up and crouching on his haunches before straightening up to look at Eragon, his hands on his hips. His hair shifted slightly and Eragon saw that Murtagh's ears had also gained a slight point as he glared at Eragon.

"That was Salcarthar, leader of Galbatorix's magicians, leader of the Black Hand and right hand man to Galbatorix."

Eragon noticed that he seemed glad at the subject change and he was more relaxed now.

"Salcarthar is loyal to the King, maybe his loyalest subject, Galbatorix knows that he doesn't need his true name to control him but I'm dead sure he knows what it is, somewhere in the back of his mind, just to be on the safe side of things."

'Thank you.' Eragon said, then moved away from the bars and sat down in his previous corner, picking up the spoon from the empty stew bowl and he started writing on the dusty floor, the spoon producing a scraping sound as it made contact with the stone underneath. He noticed Murtagh coming to watch him doing his work but Eragon ignored him. Whenever he made a mistake, he would pat down the earth and restart the glyph or the sentence and when he was done, he sat back on his haunches, read what he had just written.

_When the time comes and you need a weapon, look underneath the roots of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power seems insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls._

Solembum's advice from so long ago had been playing over in his head and he twirled the spoon between his hands as he reread yet again what he had written.

"The Rock of Kuthian? What's that? And what is the Vault of Souls? What's the Menoa Tree?" Murtagh asked, reading what Eragon had written. Eragon sighed.

"I do not know what the Rock of Kuthian is, nor the Vault of Souls, but the Menoa Tree is a vast tree in the heart of Du Weldenvarden and the weapon of which this says, was the metal from which my sword is made, but it the last metal of its kind, there is no more." Eragon told only half of the truth here, if Galbatorix inspected Murtagh's memories afterwards, he didn't want to tell Murtagh that there was enough metal for more Rider swords. "This was advice given to me long ago by a werecat, one of these pieces of advice has been fulfilled, but the others are still to come, or are never to come."

Eragon rubbed out the sentence and turned his back on Murtagh and leaned against the wall, now that the drug had worn off a bit, he could stretch out his mind a little, but he was still too weak to contact Saphira and entered the minds of the other prisoners in the block. Murtagh's mind was fuzzy with the drug which had been in Eragon's stew and he threw up weak barriers which Eragon passed, probing forwards with his thoughts and took in the other prisoners emotions and thought. One man, a few rows away sat rocking and whispering to himself, his mind broken and confused.

_He's gone mad_, Eragon realised, he had never experienced the thoughts of a mad man and it was an experience that struck at his core and he continued to stretch out his mind. In the minor prison block, a woman sat with her children on piles of mouldy hay, all three of them hated Galbatorix to the core and the news had leaked in that Galbatorix had caught the blue Rider and dragon, they were disgusted at the King.

Eragon continued to examine the prisoner's thoughts and he was brought back to his body when he heard the clatter of a lock opening. He opened his eyes to see a guard entering the cell with a plate of stew and a cup of water, place it by the door and leave. The door was slammed shut again. The cell door next to him also boomed shut and Eragon heard scuffles as Murtagh went to collect his dinner, then cursed at what he was getting, then again appeared at the gap in the wall, showing Eragon another meal of bread and cheese.

"Trade?" he asked and Eragon got to his feet and picked up the tray, passing the bowl through the gap and received the bread and cheese in return and he tore into it, detecting drugs in it but not caring.

"You sat there in that corner for hours, not moving at all, not even twitching a finger." Murtagh said. "What the hell were you doing? I was getting bored."

Eragon glared at the hole, even though Murtagh's face wasn't present.

"Never you mind, I was continuing some of the studies I was taught," Eragon said and Murtagh's clattering with the spoon on the bowl was silenced slightly and Eragon heard Murtagh take a deep drink of water, then the sound of setting down his mug, there was a second of silence for a moment, then Murtagh said in a small voice.

"They were your teachers, weren't they, the golden dragon and Rider."

"Yes," Eragon said curtly, "and they still would be alive if you hadn't murdered them."

"That was not my fault," Murtagh said in the same voice.

"It was!" Eragon roared and he punched the wooden door of his cell in anger and he heard the guards yip in surprise as the hinges groaned and the wood was dented. The calluses on Eragon's knuckles prevented his hand from being broken as had happened when he was running through the Empire with Arya and they had come across the group of soldiers. Eragon had punched one in the chest, dislocating all of the fingers on his right hand as he did so but they still hurt alot and would bruise.

Eragon's breathing was quick, heavy and full of anger as his master's deaths washed over his mind, he remembered as he had watched from Glaedr's eyes as Oromis had been slashed from shoulder to hip and how Glaedr had felt as Oromis had died in his mind, how Glaedr had roared his grief and was bent on killing those who had taken Oromis from him, those who had taken from him the very reason on why he had born into the world, because of Oromis. Eragon had felt Glaedr's fury fill him, rush through his veins and muscles and how Glaedr had cried his grief.

"It was your fault! Yours! And yours alone!" Eragon yelled, then sat down and tears came to his eyes and he drew his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms and putting them on top of his knees and putting his head on his arms, sobs raking his body as he remembered all of the grief he had hidden deep down inside him, and how it had just come spilling out and he stayed like that for a long time, cursing Murtagh and more to himself, cursing Galbatorix, he didn't want the King to know that he had seen it happen from Glaedr's eyes and that could only lead to one solution, that Eragon and Saphira had Glaedr's Eldunarí.

He ignored Murtagh's pleas to understand and the guard yelling at him and Murtagh to be quiet, his sorrow, his grief was so great and before he could stop them, memories of Oromis and Glaedr came back to him, all of the long days he had spent with the elf on the Crags of Tel'naeír, learning the skills of the Dragon Rider, and he remembered Oromis' wisdom and Glaedr's.

_Ebrithil, _he thought, staying on the stone floor and shouting at Murtagh, how he and Thorn had murdered his masters and his cries of despair and loss echoed through the prison block, the words and shouts ugly but the way Eragon said it made them beautiful, eerie and haunting and soon Murtagh stopped trying to plead with his brother, listening to his howls and sobs of grief, that beautiful voice saying all of those curses and words, words directed at him, Murtagh and he felt guilt wash up anew in his chest.

Saphira raised her head under the King's throne room and as Eragon's pain and sorrow echoed to her across their link, she too began to howl.

_Murders! Oath Breakers! Egg Breakers! Traitors! _she roared with her thoughts, keening softly between her roars.


	18. Chapter 18 -- In the Dragon's Den

18

**In the Dragon's Den**

_Zoë was crying. She ran forward despite Artemis' protests and tugged at the chains._

_A booming voice spoke behind us. 'Ah, how touching.' _

**_– Percy Jackson and the Titan's Curse: Rick Riordan_**

Saphira opened one eye to look at her surroundings; she had developed this habit when her partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon had been on the run from the Empire with sharp-thoughts-Brom and later once-kind-and-quick-thinking-Murtagh. That was the time when she had still slept in the open air under the bright-silver-sun-moon but now, now she was a cold-dark-marble-cave, one in which she could not stretch her wings and could not raise her head without scraping it on the cold-hard-ceiling.

All the time, she could sense the twisted-thoughts-dark-King above and her heart had leapt when, she had assumed that it was yesterday, she had felt Eragon enter the throne room above her and she had tried to stretch her mind out to him, but it was like trying to grab a tiny fish with her tail, impossible, his mind had kept slipping away from hers. His mind and body were heavy with the block-magic-and-thoughts-drug. She had roared in pain when the twisted-thoughts-dark-King and hurt her little one and her anger was great, and her pain. Her roar had been muffed by the strong-clamp-mouth-shut-muzzle.

She had felt when Eragon had mourned shinning-scales-Glaedr and his partner-of-mind-and-soul-Oromis, the sorrow which Eragon had been keeping deep inside him and how he started to rage at once-kind-now-evil-Murtagh and blood-scales-Thorn, but hiding the fact that he knew that it was Galbatorix who had killed the ancient Rider and dragon, to protect Glaedr's Eldunarí; Saphira saw.

Saphira was glad that Eragon had decided to leave Glaedr's-second-heart-Eldunarí in his tent back in the rebellious-people-Varden's camp so false-King-Galbatorix did not get hold of Glaedr.

Saphira moaned and rolled over; snarling in the effort to snap the muzzle that clamped her jaws shut, it had not been removed since she and Eragon had arrived in Urû'baen and hunger gnawed at her belly. She growled in frustration, pacing around in tight circles, her wings scraping against the wall and her talons clacking on hard floor. Her wings were sore, she needed to stretch them and fly away from here, she desperately wanted to fly, to touch the cold-fluffy-white-wet clouds and have Eragon seated on the rough-uncomfortable-leather-saddle; as her thoughts returned to Eragon, worry gripped her belly, how was the partner-of-her-mind-heart-and-soul faring in Urû'baen?

Her stomach rumbled with hunger and she thought back to when she had had her last meal, the day before the battle in which red-wings-Thorn and Eragon's-brother-Murtagh had capture her and Eragon, that had been six days ago.

She slumped against the wall, despairing in her thoughts and actions, and she began keening softly and began swaying her head ever so slightly from side to side. The false-King-Galbatorix had no right to keep her, Saphira, like a common Varden-food-pig or a must-not-eat-ox, this was not where she was supposed to be, she was supposed to be in the skies, fighting, and of course, with the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon and not kept away from him like this.

She had hated it when they had been separated twice in the past few months, not able to contact Eragon with her thoughts, but only through a smooth-reflection-and-sometimes-magic-seeing-mirro r and this was like those times, but much worse, Eragon was in danger and she couldn't help him, had no power to help him, even though he was so close to her. She whipped her tail and hit the walls with anger and frustration, rolling on her back and scrabbling at the muzzle which kept her jaws prisoner, if only she could breath-hot-pleasant-from-her-belly-fire and blast down the door, then her rage would be terrible, she would rescue her little one and slay Galbatorix and Thorn and Murtagh.

The small room pressed in on her from all sides and all she wanted to do now was to fly, fly until she could no more, with Eragon on her back, to make sure he was safe from twisted-snake-tongue-Galbatorix.

_And to rescue the last egg of course,_ she reasoned, the Varden and two-legs-pointed-ears-elves needed another Rider on their side and her thoughts drifted to Arya, how the elf had roused her interests but how she had not hatched, Arya wasn't the right person for her. Maybe the last egg would hatch for raven-haired-Arya since Saphira had stirred in her slumber to listen to Arya thoughts, and then withdraw for Arya was destined for someone else.

_Maybe the last egg will hatch for Arya, I nearly did._ Saphira was glad that she had waited. Maybe the last dragon in that egg would become her mate; she shuddered at the thought of mating with either Shruikan or Thorn. She turned onto her side, wishing that the floor underneath was soft-green-plant-grass and not the marble that she was now resting on. She allowed her imagination to explore and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

_She dreamed that she was flying, flying high above a city in flame, the uncomfortable-leather-Eragon-patch was on her back and she twisted her head around and she saw Eragon sat on the saddle, in bright shining armour with blue-gem-elf-made-sword-Brisingr pointing upwards, his face was covered by a helm and his eyes showed rage, confusion and sorrow._

Saphira! _he called with his thoughts and she turned around to see a green dragon crash into her side and she locked into combat with the smaller dragon, ripping at him with her dagger-sharp-talons and the green dragon swung his head to the side to reveal his Rider and she recognised the Rider instantly, although their armour was bright with blood._

We must take them, Saphira, _Eragon said, _although it tears my heart to do so.

I understand, _Saphira replied._ They must understand that we have no choice, they must understand that-

She stirred from her dream, aroused from her sleep by knocking on the door and shouting from the other side of it. There was a mutter, then the door opened and a woman was shoved inside; Saphira growled and got to her feet, crouching low on the floor and baring her teeth.

_Who dares disturb my peace? Who intrudes on my thoughts? _she growled, reaching her consciousness put towards the woman who flinched slightly as she heard the voice projected inside her head.

"I bring a message, mighty dragon," she said, curtsying slightly and backing up against the door as Saphira swung her head towards the woman, taking in her scent and reading her thoughts, terrified thoughts flicking through her mind. Saphira thought for a moment, never lowering her guard and her teeth remained bared. She could smell the woman's scent was sharp with fear and she could see that the woman was about the same age as Eragon, maybe a little older

_Deliver your message; I am hungry for I have not eaten for many days, _Saphira said finally and the woman started to talk again and Saphira was annoyed that she insisted that she talk with her tongue and not her thoughts.

"Galbatorix is coming later." She stifled a small scream as a jet of blue fire escaped from between Saphira's teeth and she advance upon the silly-coward-woman, "With your Rider to see and talk with you!" she cried, crouching into a small ball and trembling her entire length and Saphira's shoulders sagged.

_Eragon! _she cried, her roar muffled by the muzzle around her jaws. She swung her head towards the woman again who let out a small scream of fear as Saphira bared her teeth again. _As it should be,_ she thought to herself.

_Go, _she said and the woman's trembling ceased. _This is grave yet good news, I let you go this once, be sure not to cross my path again._

The woman's breathing was shallow and fast and she turned towards the door and lightly banged on it three times, it swung open and the woman ran through it and it shut behind her.

_Eragon! _Saphira cried again. _Little one! _

She forgot for a second where she was, forgot that that snaked-tongued-traitor was upstairs and she forgot her belly-gnawing-hunger, the only thing that filled her mind now was that she was going to see Eragon soon and relief shot through her and she started to pace, her claws scraping against the floor and producing a horrible-screeching-noises against the shining stone, she was going to see Eragon, and maybe feel his mind once more, the stops-thoughts-and-magic-drug less holding on his body and mind, Saphira knew that Eragon wouldn't be able to use his escape-Gil'ead-starve-himself-method to flee Urû'baen with her and the egg. Her worries partly vanished as her thoughts returned to the person that she had waited more than one-hundred years for.

* * *

**SAPHIRA** GROWLED IMPATIENTLY, it had been a few hours since the silly-message-girl had given her the message and she had started to pace around the small room, every time the door creaked, her head had snapped up, but it was either the guards teasing her or a small breeze from the window down the corridor from her cell like room. This had last happened about five minutes ago and it was once again the guards and she had roared in frustration and bounded to the door and smack her tail again the hard-magic-enforced door and their thoughts had turned to fear and alarm and much to her pleasure, they had remained still and quiet.

She extended her mind up the corridor to watch out for the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon but his thoughts were still too far away to reach. She moaned in longing and went to sit down but the opposite wall of the room, her eyes never leaving the door and her tail flicking in anticipation. Saphira remained like that for a couple more hours, then she felt two people, one walked tall and proud, in his mind were, Saphira guessed, two dozen other voices, confused and murmuring to eachother in the man's thoughts; now Saphira knew who those voices belonged to, she bristled in anger. The second man was limping slightly, his thoughts only on her and getting to her as fast as possible.

_Eragon! _Saphira cried, stretching her mind out to his and she barely just managed to grab hold of his thoughts, his mind and body still heavy with the block-magic-and-thoughts-drug and his thoughts flooded over hers like warm water.

_Saphira!_ he cried in pleasure and they embraced with their minds once more, merging their identities into one once more. A sharp pain in Saphira's back caused her to clench her toes in discomfort, her talons screeching against the floor and she realised that Eragon had been hit in the same spot and she tried to roar in rage, how dare they hit her Rider? How dare they? Anyone that hit the partner-of-her-heart-and-soul would face her wrath, her fiery breath and her glistening claws.

Eragon and the other man drew closer to the cells and Saphira stood up, waiting for her Rider to walk through the door, waiting to see him once more. The sound of keys in a lock reached her and the door swung open to reveal two people, one was Eragon and Saphira bounded forwards but the other man raised his left hand and the mark-that-shined-with-magic glowed on his palm.

"Thrysta vindr," he said, almost lazily and Saphira was pushed backwards by an invisible force and she was sent into the wall where she had been resting moments before. The stone cracked slightly as she hit the wall and she slumped down it. Eragon gave a cry of rage and tried to wrestle past the man who then turned on Eragon and said "Letta," and Eragon grew still and ridged, his eyes looking in rage at the man who Saphira now recognised by scent, the egg-breaker-traitor-King.

He stepped forwards towards Saphira and raised his hand again.

"Letta," he said again and Saphira's muscles now refused to move when she commanded them to; the traitor-King walked closer to her and he stood right by her front right leg and then began to walk around her, she snarled at him but was unable to move her head to bite at him. A jet of fire came from between her teeth and headed straight for Galbatorix's head, but the invisible-protecting-shields around him extinguished the fire and he turned to her.

"Such spirit," he murmured, and then looked towards Eragon still immobilized by the door and he returned his towards Saphira. "Zar'rac," he said and Saphira howled as fire bathed her limbs, she tried to curl up, to reduced her body size in an attempt to ease the pain; but she could not and she howled once again and Eragon cried out in rage and pain as the fire raced across the link-that-connected-them-for-life. Galbatorix started to laugh as he saw Eragon and Saphira's pain and rage and the spell held for another few seconds, the Galbatorix lowered his hand and the pain vanished, along with the body-binding-pressure and Saphira slumped down on the floor, as Eragon did and he struggled to his feet, tottering towards her and Galbatorix let him pass and he collapsed against Saphira's leg, holding onto it and she swung her head around and nuzzled him. _ Little one,_ she said slowly, her voice full of care.

_ I need you,_ Eragon said. _I could not live a day without you, it is now when we need eachother most of all, will you help me get through this Saphira?_

_ Of course I will,_ Saphira said. _We are here to help eachother._

Saphira saw out of the corner of her eye, Galbatorix raise his eyes to the guards at the door and Saphira saw emotions in him, ones that his barriers could not completely restrain, loss and she knew that this reminded him of his dragon.

"Leave the both of them here for now," he said, his voice as smooth and oily as ever. "I will return later."

He strode out of the door and it boomed shut behind him.

_Eragon,_ Saphira said, still nuzzling him and her warm breath ruffling his hair. _Eragon._


	19. Chapter 19 -- Lilies

19

**Lilies**

_'Remember,' snarled Larka, 'but remember right, Fell' _

**_– The Sight: David Clement-Davis_**

Arya crouched down and placed two lilies in her palm into the Jiet River and then she straightened up, watching the flowers drift down the rivers currents; they spun in small circles then the mist took the lilies out of her sights.

"Please come back, Eragon, Saphira,"she said then repeated it in the ancient language. She withdrew her hands inside of her cloak, the hood collapsed around her neck so her hair was flying around in her face due to the breeze coming up from the sea. "Do not lose your faith, never doubt or question our causes; do not let your hearts be clouded with anger, despair, sorrow or confusion. Resist Galbatorix for all of our sakes, as much as yours, your friends, the Varden and the free peoples of Alagaësia, I beg you, please." Her voice was a whisper at the end of her speech and a tear slid down her cheek, stinging in the bitter cold, a sure sign that winter was on the way once again.

She turned from the river and walked back towards the Varden's camp, they were moving on today, moving closer to Belatona to capture and seize it. She entered the camp's gate, slowly being disassembled. She didn't want to be moving on, in the hope that Eragon and Saphira had escaped Urû'baen and this would be the first place that they would come looking for the Varden; the place was a few leagues north-East of Feinster and Arya turned her gaze to the battlefield, patches of grass scorched charcoal black from the two dragon's writhing flames and her eyes grew wet once and she angrily wiped the tears away. She stopped and stood facing the field, a figure in a green cloak and black hair flying around her face, her face that entranced so many mortal men, now a mask of pain and hurt, loss and anger.

Arya turned away from the field and walked off at a ninety degree angle, just to get away from all of the noise of the Varden's camp, men shouting orders, children crying for mothers and fathers and the bleats, lows and grunts that the animals were making. Her footsteps were silent and quick, her cloak swishing around her feet as she walked the earth, producing little dust clouds as she trod. For how long she walked, she did not know but Arya was at least a few miles away from the Varden when a flashing caught her eye on a grassy hill, she bent down and saw what had caught her eye, a flower made of solid gold grew in the soil, stretching out its leaves to catch the sunlight and Arya scanned the rest of the area.

The remains of a campfire from long ago rested on the hilltop and Arya choked back a sob, this was where so long ago, she and Eragon had stopped for the night on their way back to the Varden after Eragon returned from Helgrind and Arya had found him, where they had rested after they had slaughtered those soldiers.

Arya crouched down and cupped the flower in her hand, marvelling at it beauty and she stretched her mind out to the plant to find it very alive, growing healthily in the sunlight, despite the fact that the flower was made of solid gold. Arya traced the lines of the petals, marvelling that the flower was perfectly fine as any other flower would be and she whispered some words in the ancient language over the blossom and at seemed to grow slightly at her words.

_Oh, Eragon,_ she thought, standing up again and turning away from the hill and she began to walk back towards the Varden who she could make out in the distance, the huge lines of people ready to move out of the area and march towards Belatona. Arya quickened her pace and soon was running back; she ran for about half an hour before slowing her pace to a walk to return to the Varden.

"Hail, Shadeslayer!" one of the men called, saluting her as she rejoined the Varden and she nodded in return, walking to the front of the line to find Nasuada and King Orrin. Several other people greeted her along the way but Arya waved them away impatiently, searching for Nasuada with her eyes and mind. She located Nasuada at the front of the column on her steed Battle-storm and she ran quickly up to her.

"Nasuada," Arya said, catching up to her once the Nighthawk guards had let her past.

"Yes, Arya?" Nasuada said, looking down at the elf.

"Is there any signs of patrols, soldiers or the Empire up ahead?" she asked.

"No, why do you ask this Arya?"

"Because on the way back from Helgrind, Eragon and I passed a patrol of soldiers along the way back but a few miles from here. Adding to that, Eragon and I had spotted several other patrols besides the one that we encountered."

"Could this have not just been due to Eragon being alone in the Empire and Galbatorix seeing this as an opportunity to easily capture Eragon?"

"I think that it would be wise Nasuada not to take the risk, Galbatorix is sure to know of our plans by now, I would be surprised if he was ignorant of our plans," Arya said.

"I see, thank you for giving me this information Arya, I will not have us suffer casualties where they can be so easily avoided. Jörmundur! I want five scouts on horses to give us a look out and to be able to report back as quickly as possible if any trouble should arise," Nasuada called in a commanding tone to Jörmundur, who was near her, a few horses away from Battle-storm.

'Of course, milady,' Jörmundur said, inclining his head and he turned his horse around and it cantered off down the line.

'Thank you Arya for this warning, the Varden will benefit from this if any trouble should arise for it would result in less injuries.'

Arya bowed and walked off down the line, searching for Roran, wanting to talk to him about Eragon. She stretched out her mind and located him in the baggage train with Katrina and his mind was on the child that was stirring in his wife's womb. Arya cut into the column of men and squeezed through the crowds until she came across a wagon which was full of luggage, rolled up tents and supplies which one of the Carvahall villagers, Arya had forgotten his name, was holding the reins and his eyes lit up as he saw her.

'Heya!' he called down to her and she looked up at him. 'Can I help you with something?' he seemed eager to help and Arya didn't need to look far to find his eager behaviour.

'Yes, where would Stronghammer be?' she asked.

The man jerked his thumb backwards.

'In the cart, if ya need any help in the future, the name's Taner.'

'I appreciate your help,' she said, heading around the cart to find Roran and Katrina sitting together with their backs against two bundles of cloth, Roran's hand on Katrina's belly and Katrina's head on her husband's shoulder, playing with his hair and Roran was looking at her lovingly and Katrina returned his tender gaze. Katrina looked up and saw Arya looking at her and she jumped.

'Greetings Arya' she said in a small voice, attempting to get to her feet but Arya held up her hand.

'There is no need to stand Katrina, you are on a moving wagon and I think standing up would be rather difficult for a human such as you' Arya said and Katrina sat.

'Is there anything going on up the front that I must know about?' Roran asked, reaching for his hammer.

'No Stronghammer, I just wish to talk to you.'

Roran relaxed and Arya jumped lightly onto the cart and sat down next to them. Katrina looked at Arya's clothing and frowned.

'Why do wear men's clothes? Not to be nosy and rude, but I often wonder when I see you in trousers and not dresses or skirts.'

Arya looked around at Katrina and she shrank backwards into the rolled up tents behind her.

'I am not offended, many people of your race, including Eragon, have asked me this question and my answer is this, skirts are impractical, they get in the way, caught on so many things. Sometimes, I will wear skirts but not often. I think about why you humans insist in separating your men and women through clothing when in elven society, it does not matter if a woman wears trousers or skirts or indeed that men wear dresses.'

Roran boomed out laughing at her words.

'I can't imagine any men wearing a dress! Why some men would want to wear skirts, I know not, but the idea was funny at least.'

He sat there chuckling and Arya's lips twitched.

'That is a strange thought but I can assure you that it has happened in the past.' Roran laughed even harder and Katrina started to smile.

'It is a strange sight I admit,' Arya said, struggling to hide a smile.

'Arya, I do not think you came here to find us just to talk about clothing, there must be another reason you wanted to talk to us.'

Arya's stomach squirmed as she turned her thoughts to why she had come to see the young couple.

'Is it that you wanted to talk about Eragon?' Roran said softly.

'Yes, that is the general reason.' She settled down next to Roran and Katrina and she looked towards the mule that was pulling the cart behind them as she began to speak again. 'Please do not tell anyone yet, but Roran, I think I love your cousin.'

Roran grinned and gave a small laugh.

'Why do you wish to tell us this? Why haven't you told Eragon yet?'

'Because the night he changed, he tried to pursue me as I think you know and you also know that I rejected him and I think he thinks that we are only going to go as high in the level of friendship, you see, not long ago, I had a lover, and I loved him back, but then he was snatched away from me by Durza the night the Saphira's egg appeared to Eragon in the Spine.

'I was too deep in my sorrow to accept that another one wanted to love me, and I didn't want to love them back when I found that he only lusted for my beauty, not for who I was. He then started to respect who I was and look past my face to my real self, and I did not tell Eragon of this before for when I saw him fall, it was only then I realised my true feelings for him, what I had restrained myself from saying before he went to fight Murtagh and Thorn on the day of your wedding; but I was unsure about my feelings, for was it only friendship, or was it something deeper?

'I had forgotten what love felt like when my love died, but the feeling burst forth again like a bird out of my chest when I realised what this feeling was, deep down inside of me.'

Arya paused and returned her gaze to Roran and Katrina who were both looking at her.

'I felt the same about Roran once,' Katrina said slowly. 'I could tell that he loved me, but I was not sure if I loved him, I guess I did, and here we sit now, a child on the way and Roran risking his neck to save me from the foul Ra'zac and rescuing me from Helgrind.' She turned towards Roran and he took her in his arms and she kissed him lightly on the cheek twice.

'He still has feelings for you,' Roran said quietly but with Arya's keen ears, she did not miss this and she turned her gaze towards Roran. 'I've seen him looking at you, every time you turn to look at him, he diverts his gaze but when you attention has shifted, his eyes return to you, I'm sure if you told him of your feelings, he will not turn you away.'

'You think so?' Arya said, shifting her position and rising smoothly to her feet when a human or dwarf would have fallen over or stumbled at least.

'I know so,' Roran replied. 'He would be only too glad to accept that you love him and that he will not deny that he loves you, Arya.'

'Are you certain of this? How can you know?'

'I have lived, talked and worked alongside Eragon for most of my life; he is as easy to read as book, taking the saying since I-' he stopped there and ducked his head. Arya understood.

'Thank you for your thoughts on these, Roran Stronghammer, I doubt that any man could have said that to me and not fire my temper. You are brave and your heart and soul are good. Un du evarínya ono varda, Garrowsson.'

Arya jumped off the cart and walked away, her cloak billowing behind her and the sunlight shinning through the faint green material.

_I suspected Eragon's feelings for me but I am glad to hear that I am not the only one who is noticing his behaviour, _Arya noted, returning to the front of the Varden and walking next to Nasuada who acknowledged her with a curt nod.

Far away, two lilies spiralled down the river, floating in the cold currents and swaying with the water. Droplets decorated their petals and the dying sun made those drops ruby red, like blood adorned their petals instead of water.


	20. Chapter 20 -- True Names and an Egg

20

**True Names and an Egg**

Brother,_ he had thought, _you can count on me_. _

**_– Runemarks: Joanne Harris_**

Murtagh slumped against the stone wall, leaning his head back against the wall and he reached out for Thorn and he found, to his annoyance, that he still couldn't reach his partner and he hit the floor in his frustration. He had been silent ever since the guards had come and got Eragon from his cell and that was at least three hours ago. He had had one meal and that had been Eragon's stew as normal and now Murtagh was bored out of his mind.

He looked up as he saw a fly buzzing at the door, landing on the top rim of the door and he looked at it, annoyed and he stood up and slowly crept forwards, the fly crawling around and shuffling its wings. Murtagh stretched out his mind to its fullest extent and was barely able to touch its consciousness. Murtagh groped for the ancient language and found what he was looking for and opened his mouth to say the fatal word.

_True names, _a voice said at the back of his mind.

_Thorn? _Murtagh asked hopefully but no answer came. He turned his attention back to the fly and he reached for the word again.

_You promised, _the voice said and it sounded like Thorn's.

_Who's there? Is that you, Thorn?_

_I am your promise_ the voice said. _You cannot lie in the Language of power; I am the spell, the oath that you made._

_Must I spare the life of one insect to change my true name? _Murtagh snapped.

_It would help you, ever wondered the reason that Eragon keeps giving you his food? It is because of this._

_Why do you sound like Thorn? _Murtagh asked, changing the subject.

_Because he is the one you swore your oath to._

_I don't understand! Why must I spare the life of fly to free myself of Galbatorix's chains?_

_That, you find the answer to yourself as so many others have done, only then will you only understand._

The voice withdrew from his mind and left the young Rider stood there, confused as ever and he frowned, stumbling backwards and sat on the shelf that served as his bed, pondering the words he had heard.

_Am I going mad? Hearing voices in my head?_ Murtagh wondered, but then again, the ancient language was a mysterious thing, full of power that even the elves could not fully understand. Murtagh thought back on what Eragon had said yesterday.

_"When I experienced it, I thought back on my life, I thought how I could have bared to eat meat, knowing where it came from, knowing that an animal had been killed just because we can eat when you can find plenty of nutrients in plants, fruits and the bread and cheese I just eat."_

Was this possibly linked to what the voice had been talking about? Murtagh came to the solution that they were connected in a way.

_But what way?_ he asked himself and he became lost in his thoughts, rethinking the words that had been in his head. _I don't know! I need more information! I need to study more!_

A clatter brought Murtagh back to the present and he raise his head. He heard scuffling and yells from nearby and a grunt of pain as a blow sounded throughout the commotion, then the crack of a whip; and far away, Murtagh heard a dragon roaring as what he interoperated as longing, anger and frustration.

"Saphira!" someone called and then the sound of the whip crack came again and Murtagh stood up, rushing to the gap in the wall that divided his and Eragon's cells to see the door being thrust open and Eragon was shoved in, his hands now tied with thick black cords and he fell to the floor and then he jumped up and attempted to barrel past the man who now stood in the doorway and he held a whip in his hand and he cracked it as Eragon drew near. Eragon shouted as a cut appeared on his shoulder and the man laughed, spat at his brother and swung the door shut so the sound boomed up the corridor.

"Saphira," Eragon moaned, slumping against the wall and he started to rock back and forth.

"Eragon?" Murtagh asked slowly and he looked up.

"What?" he snapped and Murtagh recoiled.

"Never mind," he said and he walked back to his shelf and made himself comfortable on it, picking at his fingernails, his head against the chains which held the shelf up and he subconsciously started to kick the chain that held the other part of the shelf up, drumming out a rhythm for a song that he had heard the other night for when the King had been eating his dinner. Murtagh heard struggles from next door and he stood up and once more went over to the gap in the wall to see what it was.

Eragon was on the shelf in his cell and he was trying to get his bonds off, concentrating on the cord and opening his mouth slightly, frowning, then he tried to pull his hands out.

"You won't be able to get those off without help unless you starve yourself to you would be able to use magic," Murtagh said and Eragon looked up, his eyes bubbling in fury.

"Why are you helping me?" Eragon snapped and he returned his attention to his hands.

"It won't work," Murtagh put in and Eragon gave him another filthy look.

"Then could help me, O great genius?" Eragon said sarcastically.

"May be, if you take that tone out of your voice," Murtagh said in a low voice. He waited a few seconds.

"Fine! Sorry! Please could you help me?" Eragon asked and Murtagh raised his eyebrows.

"Fine, come here." He held his hands out and Eragon came over and Murtagh started to tug at the bonds, despairing how hard they were and after a few minutes, they came loose and dropped to the floor.

"Thanks," Eragon mumbled, rubbing his wrists to get the blood flowing again.

"Why were you gone for so long? Where did you go? To see the King?"

"No, I did see the King though, he wanted to see Saphira for—" Eragon broke off and Murtagh could see worry gnawing at his brother's insides.

"When will he?" Murtagh asked and Eragon knew what he was talking about.

"I don't know," Eragon said. "Please could you leave me alone for a while?"

Murtagh withdrew and returned to the shelf in his cell, watching the door and beating out the rhythm on the chain once again. He could hear the inhabitants of Urû'baen and the castle bustling around, getting on with their daily lives and Murtagh caught snatches of conversation because his hearing was slowly, surely, getting better with each passing day and as he thought about that, he reached up and fingered the tips of his ears which had accumulated a slight point now, something which he resented for reasons he could not fathom.

_Why does this happen?_ he wondered for the millionth time. He went back into his thoughts then and he once again started to ponder what the voice had said.

_I need to change my true name,_ Murtagh thought. _How can I change it? _he thought back on his behaviour, how he acted around the soldiers of Galbatorix's army, how he treated them coldly, how he had not even batted an eyelid when he had broken that man's jaw a few days ago because he was worried about his soldiers, the influence that Murtagh gave them, how he was happy with Thorn, back to his old self and the transformation he underwent whenever he encountered soldiers of the Empire, enemies, when he went to battle and how he behaved around Galbatorix. Cold hearted. That's what he was, cold hearted and cruel.

He remembered Eragon's words from the Burning Plains all of that time ago, and the response that Murtagh had said.

_'You have become your father.'_

_'No, I am strong than Morzan ever was.'_

_Our father,_ Murtagh reminded himself, closing his eyes at the memories. Was he becoming like Morzan? The one thing he swore he never would become. _Then why have I taken this path?_ Murtagh asked himself. And the worst part of it, it sounded as if he was proud to be stronger than his father, proud to be in his father's position.

He needed help but he would ask Eragon yet when he wanted to be left alone for now and Murtagh respected that. He acted harsh at times but he still respected people's wants and needs, but not all peoples, he realised, just of those that were or equal or greater status than him.

_How does Eragon behave?_ Murtagh thought and he remembered back to times when he and Eragon were companions, how Eragon disagreed when Murtagh had beheaded the slaver, Torkenbrand during their flight to the Varden. Murtagh had heard from people in the Empire and whispers from the servants in Urû'baen that Eragon was also famed for his kindness towards everybody, no matter race, status and how he was in battle, cutting down his enemies with Saphira with bloody teeth and claws besides him. How, before the second time they had met, Eragon had seemed desperate to at least have Murtagh change his true name.

The jingling of keys brought Murtagh out of his thoughts and the door creaked open and Murtagh's heart sank as he saw Salcarthar standing in the doorway and Murtagh saw out of the corner of his eye two magicians standing in front of Eragon.

"Ah, Morzansson," Salcarthar said and a guard came in with a pair of manacles and secured them on Murtagh's wrists. Murtagh spat at Salcarthar who drew back and then stepped forwards again to avoid the saliva.

"Bring them both," Salcarthar said and the guards and two magicians lead Murtagh and Eragon out of the prison block, people rushing up to the doors of their cells to see the two Riders filing past, many gasped as they saw Eragon, some stared at his ears and face, how he looked like an elf and not human as they had heard and others cursed Galbatorix.

The sunlight blinded Murtagh and he squinted as he came out of the prison block and he kicked at the guard holding him and his grip faltered as Murtagh pulled with the strength of an elf and Salcarthar turned on his heel.

"Letta!" he said and Murtagh's torso and arms froze in position and he cast a look of pure hatred at Salcarthar who turned around again and the company marched through the gardens towards the throne room, the water in the fountain glittering in the midday sun. Salcarthar strode forwards, a confident spring in his step and he waved his right hand and the double doors creaked open and the six of them entered the throne room and now Eragon began to struggle and the two magicians were have a troubled time holding him due to his elven strength.

'Letta!' Salcarthar said again and Eragon froze, his teeth bared and his eyes full of loathing. Salcarthar raised his eyebrows at him and took a deep bow towards the throne that had been empty a few seconds ago and Murtagh jumped when he realised Galbatorix was climbing up the steps. He swept his cloak around and sat down on the seat, drumming his fingers on the arms of the throne. 'My Lord,' Salcarthar murmured 'The two Riders, as you requested.'

'You may go, Salcarthar,' Galbatorix said and Salcarthar bowed deep and low once more, and then the three magicians and the guard left the King and the two brothers, closing the double doors behind them and they crashed shut. Murtagh's limbs freed up and he guessed Eragon had been freed from Salcarthar's spell as well. Galbatorix surveyed them and the hairs and the back of Murtagh's neck stood up and he was surprised that Galbatorix couldn't see the waves of anger and hate that radiated off him.

'Look up at me,' Galbatorix said slowly and both of them raised their eyes, but not their heads. Galbatorix stood up and removed something from his robes and Murtagh looked over at Eragon and his interest was obvious when Galbatorix brought out the object. 'This is what you want, is it not?' Galbatorix asked, the green egg flashing in the light cast by the lanterns.

Galbatorix placed the egg on the arm of his throne and walked down the steps, his footsteps reverberating around the room. He walked across to Eragon and forced him to his knees by pushing down on his shoulder; he then grasped his chin and forced Eragon to look at him. Galbatorix looked at Eragon's features for a few seconds.

'You look so much like your brother, Eragon,' Galbatorix said softly.

'I am nothing like Murtagh,' Eragon said coldly, glaring at Galbatorix.

'That, Eragon, you cannot deny. Even though you now resemble an elf, you have still kept you basic features, your hair colour, your eye colour, from your mother no doubt,' Galbatorix continued, and then he let go of Eragon's chin, walking around the young Rider and inspecting him all over.

_True names,_ Murtagh thought. He had heard Eragon's yells two days ago and Murtagh had known Galbatorix had entered his mind, searching for information for Eragon's true name.

He remembered the days after Thorn had hatched how Galbatorix had kept him away from Murtagh and Murtagh had spent hours at a time in this very room, Galbatorix studying Murtagh's mind and memories, searching for his true name. This angered Murtagh and he looked towards the green egg, resting on the throne and an idea began to form in his mind, something that he would pay for dearly and through him, Thorn, but it would help the Varden at least. Murtagh stretched his mind out, cursing the drugs in his body but at least he could extend his consciousness far enough to find them.

Galbatorix kept all his Eldunarí behind his throne, as much as he could and they were the biggest, the ones which were most powerful.

_I need your help! _he cried _Please! If you wish to extract revenge against he who slew your Riders, help me with this task!_

_Why? _A powerful voice said. _You serve the traitor Rider, we do not help traitors._

_But only through my true name, I have no choice in these matters._ Murtagh showed them memories, memories of what he had been forced to do, the long torture sessions that he had endured and that Thorn had endured, all for the ravings of a mad man.

_Please help, _Murtagh said afterwards.

The reply was slow coming and he was frustrated and desperate.

_What do you plan to do? _the dragon said. Murtagh told them his plan and they agreed to help and Murtagh felt new strength enter his limbs.

_Wait for my command._

Galbatorix was so caught up in his task that he didn't notice Murtagh shift his position and for once, he was grateful for the spells of speed and strength the King had placed on him and Thorn after the battle of the Burning Plains.

_Now! _Murtagh shouted and he began to speed up the steps and he placed his hands on the egg and raised it above his head and began to chant fast in the ancient language. Galbatorix had whipped around and a scream of rage tor from his lips as a flash of blinding red light lit the room and Murtagh felt the strength from the Eldunarí fade slightly as the egg vanished as Galbatorix raised his palm.

'Garjzla!' he screamed and a black ball of pure light shot from his hand and hit Murtagh who howled in pain and fell down the steps, landing at the King's feet. Murtagh's vision flickered as he saw the King's white face looking at him and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out. One word was burned in his mind as he sank into the blackness.

_Nasuada._


	21. Chapter 21 -- Is It?

21

** Is it?**

_'Hagrid – what's _that?'

_But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. _

**_– Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: J.K. Rowling_**

There came a knock from outside the tent and Arya looked up at the sound.

'Yes?' she asked and a boy's head looked through the flap of her tent and she saw that his eyes widened as he took in her features.

'Lady Arya, Nasuada wishes to see you for a meeting to discuss, um, I think Belatona and the moving of the Varden.'

'Tell Nasuada that will be there soon.'

The boy scrambled out and Arya sighed, sitting down on a chair in her tent. She was still worried about Eragon and she took her mirror from one of her bags and held it in front of her.

'Draumr Kopa,' she said and the surface of the mirror went black and it remained black for sometime and Arya released the spell, leaning back against the wall of her tent and closing her eyes, despairing that she could not at least see Eragon and check on him.

_Eragon._

Arya sighed and stood up, hoping with all of her heart that Eragon was alright and that he and Saphira hadn't gone through much. She exited her tent to find the sun low on the horizon and the Varden setting up tents and defences around the camp, shouting at each other and the ring of hammers was echoed throughout the camp of people driving tent poles and pegs into the hardening ground which would so be covered in sheets of frost each night. Arya picked her way through the camp towards Nasuada's pavilion and as usual, the six Nighthawk guards stood outside and when she drew near, they gripped their weapons tightly.

'Arya Shadeslayer has come!' one of the Urgals said.

'Admit her,' came the reply and they drew back their weapons and Arya entered the pavilion.

Nasuada sat on her high backed chair and she stood as Arya walked in.

'Greetings, Arya,' she said, never taking her dark eyes of the elf.

'Atra esterní ono thelduin, Nasuada,' Arya replied, touching her fingers to her lips. 'How many more people can we expect?'

'We are just waiting for King Orrin, Jörmundur and Narheim.' Nasuada said and Arya nodded, and then retreated to the corner of the pavilion, watching the opening. She didn't have to wait long before they arrived, Narheim coming in first followed by Orrin and Jörmundur who were talking in low voices to eachother. Four servants carried in the oaken table that was normally in Nasuada's pavilion then one by one, carried in the chairs and everyone sat in their seats, looking at Nasuada who came down from her current seat and placed herself gently in her seat. The servants now were carrying in the many maps, notes and diagrams that littered the table and Nasuada unrolled them, quickly scanning them before setting them down. She looked up after reading and noting all of them and placed them on the table, drawing her chair in closer.

'Thank you everyone for coming in now, and I much appreciate it. Is everything going well?'

There were mutterings of 'Yes,' and 'Aye,' from around the table and Nasuada looked satisfied.

'Good, now I have brought you all here today to discuss what we should do about Belatona and moving the Varden from Belatona, to Dras-Leona, and then finally to Urû'baen. My first question is how long we should remain here for?'

'I would say,' Jörmundur started 'that we should remain here for, I say, a couple of weeks at most, using this, we can quickly move up the Jiet River and then towards Belatona.'

'My thoughts exactly,' Nasuada said, rising to her feet and she began to pace back and forth. 'We need to plan our siege on Belatona carefully, due to Eragon and Saphira's absence, this is going to be harder than we originally planned it to be, and thus we would have to rethink many of our plans.'

'Aye,' Roran growled.

Nasuada looked at him, and then resumed her talk.

'Orrin, how long would you say until winter sets in?'

'I would say that anytime soon, we will be getting frost on the ground and soon after that, we might be looking at some snow falls in the next month, counting on the weather.' Orrin summarised, and then muttered under his breath so quietly that only Arya heard him, 'I'm not a weather man, why are you asking me?' and Arya gave a tiny smile, and then returned her full attention to Nasuada.

'Thank you Orrin, how much siege equipment have we got left from the battle at Feinster?'

'We still have a fair amount but we will need to replace some of the contraptions' Jörmundur said.

'Well then, there are some trees on the far side of the Jiet Riv-' Nasuada started but the air flashed and crackled brilliant shade of red and Arya heard Roran yell and heard curses from Narheim and roaring from Nar Garzhvog. Arya jumped and quickly drew her sword as the light vanished, leaving the light burned on Arya's eyes and she shook her head and her vision cleared and what she saw made her suck in her breath.

Nasuada had fallen out of her chair and the Nighthawks had rushed into the pavilion, the Urgals had snarls carved on their faces and all of their weapons were drawn, looking around for the threat. The end of the table that Nasuada had been sitting at was blackened and many of the pieces of paper and parchment that had surround that end were burnt and many were on fire, floating around in the air but Arya's attention was not on this, it was on what had appeared in the pavilion.

A polished green stone sat on the table in the middle of the blackened circle and Arya started forwards to pick it up, examining it and cautiously stretching out her hands for it. It looked just like Saphira's egg, except that this one was a deep emerald green, webbed with thin white tendrils that spider webbed across its surface. It was smooth to the touch and Arya's eyes were wide as Nasuada picked herself up from the floor, staring at what Arya held.

'Arya, is that...?' Nasuada asked 'Did Eragon send it from Urû'baen?'

'I don't know, I think Eragon's magic would be blue.'

'Red, you don't think?'

'I came to the same solution.'

'But look what Murtagh has done; he slew Hrothgar, captured Eragon and Saphira.'

_And he killed Oromis and Glaedr. _Arya added in her mind.

'It could be a trick of some kind.' Orrin mused, starring at the egg with mistrust.

'Well, we can easily see if this is so Orrin.' Arya said and at the same time, reaching out her consciousness towards the egg and towards what was, she hoped, a dragon inside of the egg. She came into contact with a small mind, shifting restlessly in the egg and Arya took in its thoughts.

_Unrest, that was all it brought, but it would wait, wait for the right person to free it from the hard shell that surrounded it, its prison, waiting forever for the right one to come along. The mind of one nearby was at its interest and it opened one eye, examining the minds of the people around it, new people, a new chance to break free of the shell and emerge for who it was destined to be for, why it had been born in the first place and to share its life with one, one that it would not turn away. Thoughts rushed around its head, was this the one? Was it..._

Arya withdrew and looked around at the assembled people who were looking back at her, waiting, listening to see if this was the final egg.

'It feels like Saphira's conscious when she was in her egg, and furthermore,' Arya said quietly, 'one of us in this room has caught its attention.'

There was silence at this news. Arya remembered the burning sensation, the pull that the tiny dragon felt inside of its egg, the pull to one of the beings around it.

'But whom is the answer,' Narheim said slowly, 'it may not be one of us, it may be one of the people in the Varden that this dragon has taken in, we cannot be sure of this.'

'Arya,' Nasuada said, stepping forwards and holding out her hands for the egg. 'Please may I take it for safe keeping among my guards?'

'But, Nasuada,' Orrin said. 'Arya was the protector of Saphira's egg; I think that she should take guard of this egg.'

'I failed at my duty, Orrin.' Arya said. 'It may be right to keep it under protection with Nasuada, I do not want everyone in Alagaësia to suffer for my mistakes; fortuned smiled upon us when Eragon found Saphira's egg and it did not fall into the Empire's hands once again, we are fortunate in many ways that Saphira hatched for Eragon.'

'Agreed,' Garzhvog grunted.

'But I say otherwise,' Orrin said quietly. 'It was Durza's trickery in which Arya failed to do her task but for fifteen years, she succeeded in her job and it was a Shade that attacked her with Urgals which, even with the elves extreme skills, I doubt that one could overcome that alone.'

'Then I think we should put this to the vote,' Narheim said. 'Those in favour for Arya to guard the egg?'

There were mutters of agreement from around the table and Nasuada looked stony.

'I think then,' she said, 'that Arya should keep watch over the egg for the meanwhile and if doesn't hatch for anyone in the Varden, will you be willing to journey to Gil'ead in search of this dragon's Rider?'

Arya paused for a moment, unsure of what she should do. Thoughts flashed in her mind's eye about what happened when Durza ambushed her, Fäolin and Glenwing, how it had resulted in their deaths and in her capture.

'Arya?' Nasuada asked slowly. Arya swallowed hard.

'If it will help to over throw the King, then I will be willing to shoulder this task once again,' Arya said.

'Thank you, Arya,' said Nasuada. She turned to everyone else. 'Well, I think that we should line up and touch the egg, what does everyone else say?'

'Maybe tomorrow,' Orrin said, 'I still do not trust this whole situation. This could be a trick on Galbatorix's part put us off our guard.'

'But there is a mind in there, one that feels like Saphira's, as Arya has already said, and I doubt, Orrin, that Galbatorix, even though he seems powerful and his magic is dark, could recreate something that feels like a dragon mind,' Nasuada cut in. 'We should organise sometime tomorrow, at Orrin's insistence, that we should line up all of the humans and the elves in the camp to touch the egg, whether they want to or not, we desperately need a new Rider so when we get Eragon and Saphira back, and so that we are on an even footing with Galbatorix.'

'Aye,' Narheim growled and Arya saw out of the corner of her eye, Roran's face whiten and his thoughts flashed towards the child that was stirring in Katrina's womb, if he was chosen, he would out live both his wife and child.

'Very well, this meeting is now disbanded, we will continue this tomorrow,' Nasuada said and her eyes flicked towards the now black table and she only now seemed to realise that half of her notes had gone up in flames and were now destroyed. She sighed.

'Somebody fetch Trianna for me, I want to have her save as much of our work as she can and what cannot be saved, have the scribes recreate them.' She turned towards Arya and said quietly, 'This event deeply troubles me and brings forth a whole lot of new questions that now need answering. Do not let that egg out of your sight for what you hold in your hands, Arya, may be our greatest hope of survival and over throwing that mad King.'

'I will not fail in my duty again,' Arya vowed and Nasuada looked pleased.

'This I am glad to hear. Farewell, Arya.'

As Arya began to walk towards the flap, Nasuada called her back.

'Arya, wait. I will not have you wondering around the camp with what we hope to be, the last dragon egg in existence. Farica!' she called and a young woman came rushing forwards, curtsying in front of Nasuada. She spotted the egg and her hands flew to her mouth.

'Milady! Is that...?'

'Yes, and stop gawking girl! I want you to fetch a simple cloth bag which will fit this and return here straight away. And don't tell anyone of this.'

'Yes, milady!' She scurried out whist Nasuada and Arya waited in silence. Arya cradled the egg in her arms and she kept constantly looking down at it, as was habit when she was guarding Saphira's egg.

_I wonder who your Rider will be, young one,_ Arya thought and she looked up as she heard Farica coming back. She panted and held up a small bag made of linen and Arya slipped the egg in, missing its smooth surface and she now held the bag in her arms.

'I expect to see you tomorrow by the eighth hour,' Nasuada said as Arya exited the tent.

'You have my word, Nasuada,' Arya said.

There was a crowd outside and they whispered to each other and as Arya came out, she saw in their minds that the light and the noise had attracted them to this spot and they starred at the bag in her arms and she quickly walked through the crowd, and then ran to her tent, her hair flying behind her.

_What a thing to happen, _Arya said to herself as she burst into her tent. She then started to cast spells around her tent, of protection and power and spells that wouldn't allow an uninvited person to enter her tent. When she was done, Arya walked over to the cot where she had deposited the egg when she came back and took off the bag to once again reveal the emerald green surface.

Arya traced the white lines that swam across the surface and she lay down on her cot, keeping the egg close to her chest and she had an uneasy feeling as she slowly slipped into her waking dreams.


	22. Chapter 22 -- Trials and Worry

22

**Trials and Worry**

_I run down to the river's edge and I stop and listen again._

_–** The Knife of Never Letting Go: Patrick Ness**_

Arya twisted in her sleep, hugging the egg to her chest as she tossed from side to side. One whispered word broke the silence which Arya said slowly.

'Eragon,' she said in her dreams.

_She stood beside him and he was on a shelf in a cell, much like hers had been at Gil'ead and he sat with his back against the wall, a sad look in his eyes and he breathed in deeply, the sounds of thunder in the far distance and Eragon raised his head at the sound and Arya sucked in her breath as his clothes shifted and she saw his side was red raw covered in wounds which seeped blood. He winced in discomfort and put his hand on his side, drawing it away leaving it covered in blood, the liquid shining in the light of a torch from outside the cell._

_He leaned his head back against the wall and Arya saw his shoulders shuddered as he balanced weight onto them when he pressed himself into the wall and she guessed that his injuries covered his back and sides. He sniffed and wiped his nose and his eyes roamed to a small gap in the wall which joined the cell next to him with his own. Curious, Arya walked over to the gap and looked through and was surprised that no one was there._

_Arya turned her eyes back towards Eragon who was looking back at her, a small frown on his face and he stood, wincing as the muscles on his back contracted, sending lances of pain up his back and he walked towards Arya and she stood perfectly still._

_'Arya?' he said. _

Tears came to her eyes and she tried to wipe them away, waking at the same time, the egg hugged tightly to her chest. She sat up and blinked. What had happened? Was this something like what Eragon had witnessed when she had been Durza's prisoner? If so, what unknown magic had carried her to Urû'baen and how had Eragon had known that she was there?

These questions buzzed around her head like flies which she longed to go away, thus answering her questions and she sighed, and then returned her gaze to the egg on her lap. Morning sunlight highlighted the emerald green material and sparkled off the white tendrils that decorated the surface.

The tears came back to her eyes and she let them fall, splashing on the egg's surface; she licked her lips and stood up, once more placing the egg into the linen bag and she exited the tent, holding on bag tightly to her and she swiftly made her way to Nasuada's pavilion and the Nighthawks drew back their weapons as she drew near and the announced her and she was told to enter.

Nasuada stood, wearing a red dress and she looked up as Arya entered the pavilion and smiled at her.

'I see that you have brought the egg,' Nasuada said and Arya inclined her head.

'When shall the testing begin?' Arya asked and Nasuada cocked her head to the side slightly, contemplating the answer.

'In two hours time,' she said.

'He has been restless, Nasuada,' reported Arya, looking at the bag in her hands and Nasuada looked back at her, frowning.

'Arya, can hold that egg for a second please, I wish to see something. This is just a theory that I wish to test, please could you reach your mind out to the egg?'

Arya gave Nasuada the egg and she extended her thoughts to encompass the thoughts of the dragon inside the egg,

_Where was the one? The one how had been touching it, reaching out to it, the one who it was destined for, the one who it would become with. It struggled in frustration and its thoughts went hard and dark and the eye, which it had been keeping open, slid shut and it huddled into a tighter ball, wanting, wishing that it could be back with the one who had been touching its shell before._

Arya withdrew and the knot in her stomach tightened.

'Arya?' Nasuada asked, raising an eyebrow at her expression as it crossed her face. Arya groped for a chair and sat down, her breathing quick and fast and the feelings and thoughts of the dragon spun around her head.

'It-I-I,' Arya stuttered, overwhelmed at what she had seen in the dragon's emotions.

'Arya?' Nasuada asked again.

'It-t calls to me, with its t-thoughts. It drew into itself when you touched it.'

Nasuada turned pale and she hurried forwards to Arya and placed a hand on her shoulder.

'Are you sure about this?'

Arya looked back into Nasuada's dark eyes.

'Yes,' she whispered and Nasuada's grip tightened on her shoulder.

'If this is so, Arya, then you are our greatest hope for over throwing the King and the Empire.'

'Thank you, Nasuada. There is also something that happened last night that I wish to tell you about.'

Nasuada's eyes widened.

'Did someone come to you last night in an attempt to steal the egg?'

'No no, nothing like that. Nasuada, I had a dream last night,' Arya said.

'Arya, I have no time to listen to dreams.'

'Nasuada, this is concerning Eragon.'

Nasuada looked back at Arya, raising her eyebrow higher and Arya could see a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

'Arya, consider that this could just simply be a normal dream, maybe this means nothing.'

'Listen to yourself, Nasuada! _Maybe_. That was one word you said. Please, if you will, hear me out.'

Nasuada interlocked her fingers and looked patiently back at the elf.

'Very well then, but please be quick because I do not have much time.'

'Thank you, Nasuada.'

Arya recounted her dream, of Eragon's wounds and how he had constantly kept looking towards to the cell next to his and how he had looked in her eyes afterwards, seeming to know that she was there, saying her name and walking towards her. Nasuada listened patiently as if she were listening to a child who had woken up from a nightmare. After Arya was finished, Nasuada stood up and started to pace. Arya could hear the Varden starting to wake up and start the day, laughing, calling to each other and for food, mead and other such things and the aroma of cooking meat.

'This is indeed interesting,' Nasuada mused, looking back towards Arya. 'How can you have reached Urû'baen and, the question is, how could have Eragon known that you were there?'

'This has happened between us before,' Arya said, also rising to her feet. 'When I was a captive after Durza had captured me and slew my companions, he said that he had seen me in dreams, dreams in which he could not explain and yet, which had or was happening to me, he could see. Maybe what has happened previously is now happening, in reverse, and if this is so, what unknown magic makes us able to see the other when they are in danger? I always felt as if someone was watching me in my cell and yet, in my drugged state, I could detect no one in my cell or around it.'

Nasuada frowned again and resumed her pacing, her skirts flapping around her feet and small patches of dust rising as she placed weight on her feet.

'This has given you and me much to think about, Arya. Using these "dreams" that you have, and this may well happen again, we will be able to predict what the King plans to do with Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn and maybe learn some of the Empire's plans using this method.'

Arya stood up and anger flashed in her eyes. 'I will not be used as a weapon! As a prophet or a seer because of these! This, you may have done with Eragon and Saphira and now look what has happened! Look where they are and look what is happening to them because of this, because he has gotten so used to serving the Varden and the peoples because of what you have made him do. If I were you, Nasuada, I would release him of his vows when he comes back, for because of...recent events, this will make Eragon Lead Rider now which gives him as much right as any King or Queen, maybe even more so.'

Arya stormed and Nasuada's eyes now flashed with anger. 'I do what I think is best for my people and for Alagaësia!' Nasuada shouted, thrusting the egg back to Arya who took is silently, placing it back in the bag as she brushed against Nasuada's thoughts which had leaked through the barriers around her mind. 'Please leave, Arya, and good day, I will expect to see you in two hours, back here with the egg for the trials of the Varden.'

'Nasuada, we came to the agreement-'

'Now!' Nasuada hissed, pointing towards the tent flap and Arya turned on her heel and burst out into the sunlight, startling the guards outside as she ran off, the bag bouncing against her hip as she took long, bounding and graceful strides, running towards the edges of the camp, just wanting to be away from it all, to get away from the Varden, to be with her own thoughts.

She came to a stop by the Jiet River and she paused her run, and then, after deciding whether to cross the river or not, she turned on her heel and began to run south, leaving the Varden behind her, taking the egg out of its bag and holding it to her chest.

She soon started to slow and she eventually drew to a halt and knelt down with her hands on her knees, gazing at the river, the sunlight sparkling off the waters and Arya was reminded of Saphira's scales, how they glittered and shimmered in the light and the hole which had opened since Eragon and Saphira's capture ached. A lone tear clung to her eye and she stood up and slowly walked towards the waters, looking at her reflection in the surface and starting slightly as her tear fell and broke the surface, sending ripples out in every direction and she looked towards the heavens.

'What cruel gods could have done this to me?' she said to herself, holding the egg closer to herself. Her eyes flicked downwards to the egg once more. 'If you do hatch for me,' she whispered, 'you will be the only one who will understand what position I'm in, what I have suffered and what I still suffer from. Will you be the only one who will ease my pain?' Arya looked upwards again. 'Why?!' she shouted, her voice echoing across the land and making the water shudder at its volume. 'Why?' she said again, softly this time and her tears started anew, falling to the ground between her feet and she once more, descended to her knees, staring at the egg on her lap and she once again began to trace the white and the patterns calmed her thoughts; and one crossed her mind, from so long ago, one where she could not remember where she had heard it but the words calmed her racing heart:

_'Beware of the dragons that fight in our minds, that throw false shadows on the world around us. Beware of your anger, for anger, pain and sorrow blind us to life, to the present and the future.'_

Arya shivered and her eyes were drawn yet again, out of habit, towards the egg and she ran her fingers over the surface. She knelt there for a long time, gazing at the river, and the currents swirling in the waters, and looking back at the egg on her knees and she gently brushed her thoughts against the dragon's every now and again, its thoughts warm against hers.

_Must I always lose my temper? _she thought, sighing and looking towards the skies once more, towards the sun and she saw how much time had passed since she first began to sit by the side of the river. She stood up, planning to head back to the Varden and placing the egg in its bag when she saw something out of the corner of her eyes. Curious, she turned her head to see what it was and her heart fluttered when she saw what it was.

It was brittle and brown now, made of woven strips of grass, a single mast stood tall and the tiny port holes the size of raspberry seeds and a dragon's head dominated the front. The grass ship that she had made so long ago when she had been sitting around the campfire with Eragon hovered in front of her and she extended her hands and the tiny ship docked in them and she brought it close to her face and she whispered in the ancient language, 'Be there, for people who are in desperate need, for those who are despairing, for those who are in doubt, and for those who have lost the light, be there for them and calm their thoughts when they are in darkness.'

She whispered one more spell over the ship, of protection and vitality and the blades gained their green colour again, looking as if she had just finished it and once more, said, 'Flauga.' and blew into her hands, casting the ship again into the sky and it rose, disappearing in the clouds and skies.

Arya smiled after it and then began to walk back to the Varden, slowly accelerating into a run and soon, she had arrived back among the tents; all of which were empty and Arya slowly prowled among the tents towards Nasuada's pavilion.

A stage had been set up in front of Nasuada's pavilion and the Varden were massed around it, looking up at Nasuada who stood on the stage and she looked up as she saw Arya drawing towards them and her eyes flashed in anger. She beckoned with the tiniest motion with her finger and Arya pushed her way through the crowd and jumped up onto the stage so she stood before the men and women whose faces looked at the bag on her hip and Nasuada raised her voice so all could hear her.

'People of the Varden,' she called in a strong voice. 'Last night, many of you were drawn to my pavilion by a loud noise and a flash of light and many of you left wondering what had transpired. Well this is your answer.' Nasuada turned towards Arya who took the bag off her shoulder and handed it to Nasuada coldly, not willing to be parted from the egg when both women knew who the Rider might possibly be.

_This is for second thoughts,_ Arya realised. Nasuada let the bag fall around the egg and many people gasped when they saw it.

'Many of you will recognise what this is for you would of seen a similar object before. For those of you who do not know, this is not a stone of green, cut and shaped with unknown tools, this, is the last dragon egg that we know of.'

There were mutterings and whispers in the Varden as they looked at the egg.

'Please, save your mutterings for later, for now, we must test, test and see if the egg responds to any one of your touches. Please line up, and when you reach the head of the line, walk up on stage and leave your name with Jörmundur, then come and touch the egg, do not be disappointed if you are turned away.'

Nasuada turned and the Varden immediately began to push and shove each other, desperate to be first in line, wanting to be the new Rider. Nasuada placed the egg on a table that had been brought out of Nasuada's pavilion and Trianna strode forwards and started to mutter in the ancient language, placing wards on the egg, and then stepping back and Nasuada called forth the first person in line and Jörmundur asked what his name was and the man replied and Jörmundur wrote it down on a long piece of parchment and the man strode forwards and placed his hand on the egg, a confident look in his eye.

The dragon inside the egg recoiled at the touch and the man was turned away, a look of disappointment now in his eyes and the next person was called forwards and he too, was refused by the egg.

Men, women and some children came forwards to touch the egg and everyone of them was refused and when Arya took up the egg again after the entire Varden had touched the egg and the dragon's thoughts relaxed.

_It is me,_ Arya realised at last. _Truly me_


	23. Chapter 23 -- Agony

23

**Agony**

_Voldermort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had once again been hit by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was…white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head would surely going to burst with pain; he was screaming more loudly than he had even screamed in his life - _

**_– Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: J.K. Rowling_**

Eragon had a suspicion where the egg had been sent and he prayed with all of his might that the egg had been sent where he hoped. Murtagh had passed out, a small smile gracing his lips and Eragon was surprised, and thankful, that Galbatorix did not kill him there and then. His fury was bubbling and he rounded on Eragon, his eyes becoming bloodshot and his breath shaky with anger.

'It's over, the Varden have the egg, they will find the one it will hatch for' Eragon said. Galbatorix walked over to him, pausing to kick Murtagh in the side and Eragon heard a crack as Galbatorix's foot connected with Murtagh's side and his eyes flew open and he bared his teeth, a growl of pain escaping between them as the bones broke.

'Do not think that you have won Morzansson, I will get my hands on the egg again and it will hatch for the Empire' Galbatorix hissed. He drew a dagger from inside his sleeve and prowled around Eragon and he stopped by his back and Eragon twisted around, jumping to his feet at the same time and he stood a few feet away from the King, attempting to step back, towards Murtagh but Galbatorix smiled and extended one hand.

'Come,' he said in the ancient language and Eragon felt his feet carry themselves towards Galbatorix, trying to dig his heels into the ground and Galbatorix gave him a flat stare, much like the one Murtagh had given him on the Burning Plains and Eragon's struggles became more desperate, but still his legs carried him towards his most hated foe, the one that wanted to hurt Saphira, to force her to mate with either Thorn or Shruikan, the one who had killed his uncle, his father, his teachers and who had taken Murtagh, his brother, poisoned him with lies full of hate, venom and taken Murtagh's freedom away, forcing him to fight against his friends and family. Eragon tried desperate to pull away from the magic but he knew he could not succeed for Galbatorix had the strength of hundreds of dragons at his deposit, who, like Murtagh, were his slaves.

Eragon cursed Galbatorix and the King's eyes glittered with malice and he began to laugh under his breath at Eragon's feeble attempts to escape his grasp.

'Eragon,' Galbatorix said suddenly, softly, in his ear and he spoke in the same smooth voice he had heard when he had killed Oromis and Glaedr, dripping with honey and lies, yet so persuasive. 'is all of this suffering necessary? Is it necessary that I have to force you to do my wishes? Is it necessary for us to be enemies? Your father saw the light, the promise, the truth that I offered and he made the right choice, by accepting my offer, by joining me and serving my until his dying day.'

'You cannot shame me with threats and things that Morzan had done,' Eragon spat. 'That has gone and passed, I am not Morzan, nor will I ever will be.' Galbatorix gave a small smile, then started to pace around Eragon who, in turn, tried to twist his head around to keep Galbatorix in his sights and his neck cricked.

'Pathetic' Galbatorix muttered, 'I shall deal with you later, Eragon, now I shall…tend, to Murtagh.'

He turned his back on Eragon but the spell held strong and Galbatorix started towards Murtagh; the King was shaking with rage and his breath was shallow.

'You dare disobey me? You dare turn traitor behind my back?' Galbatorix said something so quite that Eragon could not hear it and Murtagh's eye went wide and he went ridged.  
Eragon was sure that Galbatorix had muttered Murtagh's true name for he had seen a similar reaction when he had used Sloan's true name. He hefted the dagger in his grip.

'Get up,' he spat and Murtagh got to his feet and Galbatorix walked around Murtagh, paralysing him with a word under his breath. He drew a small flask from his belt and unscrewed the lid, and then inserted the dagger into the flask and when he withdrew it; Eragon could make out a shinning liquid covering the blade. He knew what it was and his stomach flipped.

He was unable to move, it was no use screaming out and he was forced to watch hopelessly as Galbatorix raised the knife high above his head and then, quickly, he brought down the knife, tearing Murtagh's shirt and he howled, now marking his back with an 'X', the new wound bloody and raw. Eragon heard a dragon's roar and he guessed that it was Thorn who had roared.

The seithr oil was quick to work and the wound started to bubble, as if the blood was boiling and Murtagh's howls increased in volume. Galbatorix's eyes were filled with fury and he pushed Murtagh to the floor and he landed on his bad side, yelping as his weight crashed down on his broken ribs and he tried to roll over, but Galbatorix planted his foot on Murtagh's side and pressed him into the floor and Murtagh gritted his teeth and his breathing was fast and ragged and a small amount of blood trickled at the corner of his mouth.

Galbatorix brought down the knife again, this time cutting Murtagh's back in a horizontal line near his neck, working his way down Murtagh's back and every once in a while, dipping the knife into the flask and soon, Murtagh's back was as red as his dragon's scales. Eragon closed his eyes but he could not block out Murtagh's cries whenever his back was sliced. Over the horizontal lines, the knife was drawn vertically and then tiny cuts were made all over Murtagh's back and it was a long time before the King was finished.

Murtagh had passed out long ago and his face was white with the loss of blood. Galbatorix turned towards the door and mentally called Salcarthar who arrived a few minutes later, side stepping the blood on the floor and he knelt before the King.

'My lord?' he whispered.

'Take Murtagh back to the dungeons, and bring me eight servants to wipe up this mess. And afterwards, send a healer to fix him up, and then bring him back here straight away, I have not finished with him yet.'

'Of course, my King.'

Murtagh was taken out of the room, blood dripping from his back, leaving a trail on the marble floor and after the door slammed behind the two, Galbatorix returned his gaze to Eragon.

'No shouting or begging for mercy this time? It ill befits you, Eragon,' Galbatorix asked and he once more drew his dagger although he made no move to extract the flask from his belt. 'Now you have seen my anger and I expect that you are not discouraged by this to disobey my orders, yes?'

'I will do everything in my power to disobey you,' Eragon spat.

'Then I think I should change that thinking as soon as possible.'

The spell still held Eragon tightly so he could not fight, he could not defend himself, he could not run away and Galbatorix moved behind him out of his sight line and Eragon felt the cold blade against his back and then a thin line of pain surged through his back and he winced in discomfort, not crying out, he would not cry out, it would show that he was weak, a wound this big was a scratch compared to the ones that he had received in the past. Again, he felt the knife slice his back and once again, he did not cry out.

'Nothing? No? Well then, I think I should try harder.'

Five more times, the knife sliced his back and Eragon still refused to open his mouth. Through his link with Saphira, he could feel her discomfort and her hate towards Galbatorix mounted, how dare they hurt her Rider? How dare Galbatorix hurt him?

Eragon tried his best to block Saphira's feelings from his own; her worry wouldn't help him now. The knife continued to open wounds in Eragon's back and the wounds stung and Eragon could feel the warm trickle of blood coming down his back and running down his legs, then collecting on the floor by his feet. It felt horrible and he wished more than anything to wipe it away but the dagger continued to slice through his skin and the pain was building. He started to shake but he still did not shout out. Another fifteen minutes passed and when Galbatorix finally stepped away, Eragon's back was drenched in blood.

'Hmm...Not as effective as I had hoped, well then, it seems that I will have to make things a little more...drastic.'

Eragon shivered, the tone in Galbatorix's voice was icy and it held a little bit of pleasure in it and Eragon thought that he knew what was coming, seithr oil, he knew it, but he did not hear Galbatorix getting out the flask, instead, he held out his hand and muttered a small spell. Eragon could not see what he had summoned and Galbatorix pushed him down onto the floor, and then deposited the substance in his hand onto Eragon's back and massaged it into the wounds.

They stung and burned and it brought tears to Eragon's eyes and he opened his mouth, gasping for air and the tears fell onto his tongue, tasting salty and he then realised what Galbatorix had summoned. He had heard about how much it hurt to have salt pressed into open wounds and that it was pure agony to have them in fresh wounds. It was an old torture technique and he tried to turn over, but Galbatorix's spell held him in place. Saphira's roars echoed through the floor and deafened Eragon and his vision flickered; the mounting pain that he had experienced when Galbatorix had been tracing lines with the blade all over his back now doubled tenfold and Eragon shuddered and finally, the spell was released and he struggled to his hands and knees, his body shaking with the pain and his eyes screwed up. He was begging for the pain to end and it took all of his strength to stay in the position he was currently in.

He heard the double doors open at the far end of the throne room and he looked up to see eight servants enter and they cast frightened looks at the King and at Eragon, and then eyeing the blood on the floor and Galbatorix stepped around Eragon.

'You took your time,' he snapped, the anger still in his voice and Eragon could see one of the servants at the end of the line quaking in fear and Galbatorix stopped in front of him, looking him up and down. He then drew the dagger from inside his robes which he had just finished using on Eragon and Murtagh and drove it into the side of the man's neck. He screamed and dropped at the King's feet, his breath rasping and rattling, and then he stopped breathing altogether and Galbatorix kicked the corpse away, rounding on the other men. 'Clean this up; and where is that Salcarthar?' he cursed.

'I am here, Lord,' Salcarthar said, silently stepping out of the shadows and he winced as Galbatorix drew up to him.

'Take our young Rider here to the dungeons'

'Yes my Lord, and a healer?'

Galbatorix thought for a moment.

'No, I am done with him for now.'

Galbatorix swept away and Salcarthar once again moved Eragon to his cell, slamming the door shut behind him and Eragon could hear soft murmurings next door. He was too tried to care and he crawled towards the shelf on the far wall and hoisted himself up onto it, grabbing one of the blankets and ripping it into strips, and then tying it around his middle to ease the blood flow and soon the wool was wet and dark. The salt still burned and he laid his head down, shuddering with the pain and he could hear Salcarthar outside giving orders to the guards that no one was to enter Eragon's cell unless it was on the King's orders.

Eragon shivered and turned over, his back constantly throbbing he tried to retreat deep within himself, in an attempt to dull the pain. As the day went by, the prison block became darker and soon torches were lit outside the cells, casting an orange light over the stone and the muttering next door ceased finally and someone's breathing became deeper and more relaxed. There were footsteps and a shadow fell over the floor and Eragon raised his eyes to see the outline of a woman, looking through the small gap in the wall which separated his and Murtagh's cells.

Her eyes were soft and brown, much like his own and a look of shock, outrage and, Eragon thought, a small amount of love blossomed in them. Eragon couldn't see her features properly and she cast one more look at him and walked out of the cell, the door shutting behind her and Eragon heard footsteps outside his cell, and then the guards arguing with a woman who in turn shouting at her, and, then finally, the sound of a lock scraping in a key hole and the door cracked open slightly and the woman stepped through and hurried forwards towards Eragon and knelt down beside him, a bundle of cloth in her hands. Eragon looked at her and she looked back at him, a small smile on her lips.

'My name is Monica.' she said, and then stood up and ran towards the door and quickly shut it. Eragon frowned and looked down by his feet to see a sack cloth shirt, much like the one he had worn when he had first come to Urû'baen. Grateful, he slipped it over his head, still keeping the makeshift bandages around his chest and he felt a little warm now but he was still cold and he buried his hands in his armpits.

Now that he was warmer, he turned his mind to who that woman was, Monica she had said her name was and he sat up and closed his eyes, thinking over what had recently happened and his back throbbed. He heard the sounds of another key in a lock and Eragon glanced over as he saw Salcarthar stride into Murtagh's cell, a smile upon his lips and his boot lashed out at something and Eragon heard it connect with flesh.

'Get up,' Salcarthar spat and Eragon saw Murtagh's head come into view and a guard strode into the cell with a pair of manacles and secured them on Murtagh's wrists, leading him out of the cell and Salcarthar slammed the door shut behind him, making it boom.

Eragon opened his eyes once more and he heard a distance rumble of thunder.

The shirt itched as he shifted position, brushing against the wounds on his side and he winced in discomfort and he put his hand onto his side; and when he drew it away, his fingers were sticky with blood. He leaned back into the wall once more and his shoulders throbbed as he put weight on them, causing him to wince and he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Eragon looked towards Murtagh's cell, wishing that his half-brother would come up and talk to Eragon as he normally did and a small flicker caught his eye and he frowned.

It couldn't have been, but Eragon could see with the faint light that the something which had caught his eye looked like raven hair. He stood up to get a better look, flinching as his back protested to his getting up and the faint shadow moved and Eragon's eyes widened with surprise. A faint set of green eyes looked back at him and now Eragon recognised who stood in front of him, her pointed ears concealed beneath her hair and her slanted cat eyes looking back at his own.

'Arya?' he asked and the figure gasped slightly and tears came to her eyes and she flickered and faded. Eragon was bewildered. Why did he see Arya in front of him when she was miles away? He reached out his hand and cupped the air in front of him where her face had been seconds before, and then he stepped back and crouched down, rocking back and forth. He was confused, why had he seen Arya? Why?

He wanted to see her again; to assure himself that she was safe and…Had his longing brought her here? Had some unknown magic taken her to Urû'baen? He remembered similar things happening when she had been Durza's captive, was this now happening in reverse? He coughed and got up, his back aching and he laid himself down on the shelf, questions swimming around his head and he eventually entered his waking dreams, the image of Arya standing by him in his cell weaving itself throughout his dreams.


	24. Chapter 24 -- The Time Has Come

24

**The Time has Come**

_There was something inside the half stone in her left hand, something the same purple colour of the stone itself. It wasn't crystalline as she'd expected. _

**_– Dragonkeeper: Carole Wilkinson_**

'I'm going away.'

'Why? We need you here.'

'Because I must and I wish to be alone.'

'Leave the egg here, with the Varden where it will be safe.'

'No, and that is final.'

Arya glared at Nasuada who stood next to her high backed chair and her face was a storm cloud.

'Pray tell me, Arya, why you must take that egg with you everywhere? Can you not leave it alone for awhile and if the Empire should attack you and seize the egg back, then all will be lost. And we must find who the egg will hatch for.'

'We came to the end of this discussion days ago, Nasuada. The egg responded to no one. No one! And, then why do its thoughts grow warm whenever I lay my hands on the shell? And why does it draw into itself whenever somebody else touches it?'

Nasuada had no answer and her eyes glinted in fury.

'Is this why then, you have been spending the past ten days in your tent and have not emerged apart from to get food? Why you did not come when I called for you when we contacted Queen Islanzadí to tell her of the egg?'

'Yes, the egg will hatch soon, I can sense it. The dragon is restless and it tosses and turns in its shell, getting ready to confront the world.'

'This is why we must have you and the egg here, to protect the dragon and the new Rider at once instead of having them being marched off to Urû'baen.'

Arya found it annoying how Nasuada always kept referring to her as 'the new Rider', refusing to acknowledge her, wanting it to hatch for someone else apart from her.

_Because she wants to be the one who controls the Rider, and if, no, __when __the egg hatches for me, then I will be loyal to my mother and she has grown accustom to ordering Eragon about when he was with the Varden._

Arya sat on a folding stool, crossing her legs and she interlocked her fingers and placed her hands on her knee.

'As I've said to my mother, you cannot decide what to do for me, Nasuada. I will not fall into the trap that Eragon and Saphira fell into. And as for your concerns about if the Empire will attack; I am more than capable of defending myself, and I wish to go away from the Varden for no more than a few days. That is; until the egg has hatched, and then I shall be rejoining you. And if the Empire attacks the Varden, I will help. I shall not be far away, maybe a mile which is a few minutes run for me.'

'Well, since you will not back down on this, let me send guards at least, for if the dragon does hatch and you are attacked, I think that you will be thinking of the young one all the more.'

'If that happens, then let me explain something; Nasuada, have you seen how much Eragon and Saphira care for each other? This is because they are one being; their souls have been entwined with one another so they are the other, in a sense. If the egg hatches and I am branded with gedwëy ignasia and I am attacked, then I will fight all the harder to protect the dragon, for it would become part of who I am.'

Nasuada breathed heavily and she sank into the chair as Arya stood. 'Then, I shall be going. I will be back soon and I won't be very far away.'

She exited the pavilion and hurried back to her tent and she burst into it, taking two steps towards the bed and she wrenched up the mattress to find the egg in its bag and she snatched it up and held it to her chest, rocking back and forth on her heels. Arya slid the bag back and beheld the emerald surface and she gazed at it for a few seconds, then quickly covered it back up again and she turned to leave.

'Where would you be going, Arya?' a voice purred. Arya focused on the person standing in the doorway of the tent.

'Blödhgarm, why does this matter to you?'

Arya came out to stand face to face with Blödhgarm and his lip curled, showing his fangs.

'I am merely wondering where you are going with the egg for I have not seen you for some time. I overheard you speaking to Nasuada of your plans.'

'Then I will say this, not far. Do not tell anybody of my absence, will you Blödhgarm?'

'I promise' he said in the ancient language.

'Well then, I shall see you soon.'

Blödhgarm watched her back, his yellow eyes never leaving her as Arya began to speed up and she passed through the gates of the Varden's camp and continued to speed across the land. After a few minutes of running, Arya slowed down to a walk and she crossed to the river, eyeing the water rushing past her.

'Rïsa!' she commanded and her feet slowly rose off the ground and she directed herself forwards and crossed over the river, releasing the spell when she got to the other side. She began to run once more, her strides long and graceful and her feet pounded on the earth making a drumming rhythm as she sped towards a cluster of trees, where she felt safer, more at peace with herself for any trees reminded her of her home in Ellesméra. Soon, she was among the trees and the canopy of golden leaves was high above her head, more reminders of the season and she settled down in a bed of leaves pulling the egg out of the bag and dropping the fabric next to her. She crossed her legs and the egg rested in her lap, small patches of sunlight making the surface glitter. Arya was once again transfixed, the being that would change her whole life was resting in her lap and she fingered the egg and lifted it off her lap and hugged it to her chest.

_When?_ she wondered, looking towards the egg once more and she stretched out her mind towards the tiny dragon inside the shell once more:

_The time was close, very close and the dragon fidgeted, both of its eyes were now open and it squirmed once more. Its back foot twitched, itching towards the wall of the egg and ever so slightly, it began to pound at the wall. It opened its mouth and gave a low call. Now was the time to emerge into the world, the time when it would be bonded with the person it had been waiting for a long time, for such a long time and that person was now here, holding the egg between their hands. It was truly time._

Arya came back to herself and her heart was pounding, the dragon was beginning to hatch and she sat there, staring dumbfounded at the egg. She closed her eyes, echoing the dragon's thoughts.

_It is time._

Arya set down the egg on the moss and she remained crouched down, watching it intently and her breathing was rapid. The stories of the Riders that she had heard as a child flashed through her head. The story of Eragon, and how he had found the white egg and when the dragon had hatched, had called him Bid'Daum. Of Vailnor, King of the wild dragons and of Eridor, his successor. Of Fundor and his Rider, Caren who fought the giant sea snake and so many other stories came to her mind and with her hearing, she heard the faintest of squeaks and her excitement doubled as she crouched forward onto her hands and knees.

The hours passed in silence and the sun began to set over the horizon and Arya kept her eyes trained on the egg and every once in a while, it would squeak slightly and at one point, the egg shuddered. Arya stretched her mind towards it, worried.

_The dragon was frustrated, this was taking so long! But it kept scratching at the egg and knocking its body against the shell and it could slowly feel the wall that had surrounded it giving way. At this thought, it tried harder, needing to get to the person on the outside and it let out another squeak, this one of excitement._

Arya withdrew and knew at once why the dragon felt so relieved. In the gloom, Arya could see a small crack in the shell and the dragon squeaked and the egg rocked again and another loud squeak pierced the air. Arya grew tense, heart hammering as the crack became more refined, like a dark thunderbolt tattooing the surface of the egg. Another crack appeared in the shell. Arya was shaking now as a dark foot protruded from the shell and began to claw at the outside; making the hole larger. Arya debated with herself whether she should help it out of the egg. Another squeak came from the egg and the hole grew larger still as the dragon forced its way out of the egg and soon, a dark head could be seen, followed by what Arya guessed was a wing, as the other front leg and wing followed soon afterwards leaving the last part easy for the hatchling who slid the rest of its body out. Squeaking as it tried to stand; the hatchling fell on its stomach, unsteady on its legs.

Arya rocked back onto her knees as the dragon once again tried to stand, tottering as it got to its legs again. It struggled to stay on its feet as it tumbled towards Arya who lunged out to catch it; her right hand caught the left wing which the dragon had extended in an attempt to keep its balance.

As soon as the wing came into contact, pain filled every part of Arya's body and she cried out, clutching her hand. It felt as if her body was filled with fire and she thrashed on the ground as an iron clang filled her ears and finally, after what felt like hours, the pain subsided and her body began to warm. She opened her eyes, and watched as the middle of her palm shimmered and glowed, warping and making an oval on her palm which shined with a silver light. The moonlight fell on to the gedwëy ignasia now emblazoned on her palm and she felt something, on the edge of her consciousness. Arya slammed up her barriers, expecting a mental attack, but none came and she realised it was the dragon's consciousness that had brushed against her own.

The dragon was looking at her with bright emerald eyes, and then got up and moved towards her on unsteady legs and Arya stretched out her hand once more and the dragon lay its head in her palm and closed its eyes, a low humming coming from its throat. Her palm tingled at the contact and Arya reached out her mind towards it and it shuddered slightly at her touch.

_My dragon,_ she thought and the dragon's nostrils started to smoke ever so slightly, and then Arya felt a gnawing hunger coming from its belly. She sighed, she had to get it food and the one word came to her mind about what it would eat.

Meat.

The thought of hunting made her sick but she looked down at the dragon, huddled on the ground. _I shall do this for my dragon_ she thought and she extended her mind out to find something to hunt. Arya found a small squirrel up a tree, washing its fur and Arya's throat contracted, and she whispered the fatal word.

'Deyja.' The animal's small heart ceased to beat and the light left its eyes and it sagged and Arya stood, going to collect the meat, always keeping her mind connected to the dragon and she hoisted herself up the tree the squirrel was in and collected it. Arya jumped to the ground and returned to the dragon.

She first removed the head and tail, and then cut it down the belly revealing the guts and she scooped them out with her knife and then buried the innards. The dragon pushed its nose towards the buried innards and Arya pushed it away. She was now skinning the squirrel and she too, buried the hide and she then drew water from the ground. Arya was surprised and pleased that the magic came more easily now, and she watched as the gedwëy ignasia glowed on her palm as she released the magic. Arya washed the small carcass in the water and released the spell when she was done. She then cut the meat into small pieces and held one out in her hand to towards the dragon.

It sniffed it, and then jabbed its head forwards cautiously and chewed on the meat, swallowing it awkwardly and it then started to squeak. Through the connection, Arya could feel the dragon's delight and she carefully fed it the rest of the meat, and its belly bulged but the time it was finished. Arya sheathed her knife and the dragon crawled into her lap, shut its eyes as it started to hum slightly. It shuffled its wings and curled up into a small ball, similar to a cat and Arya traced the thin veins that pulsed through the wings. They were warm and felt like old parchment. While it was asleep, Arya studied the small creature in her lap.

It was about as long as her forearm and its head was roughly triangular. The tail was powerful and muscular and spikes ran from the base of the head down to the tip of the tail. The wings, from her observations before, were several times longer than the body so the dragon would stay in the air and the membrane had been dragged back so it ended just before the back legs to catch the breeze. Two fangs curved down from the upper lip and the claws on the dragon's feet were sharp, perhaps as sharp as her knife and they were slightly serrated on the inside curve.

The dragon breathed in deeply and released another puff of smoke from its nostrils and curled into a tighter ball. It was truly a beautiful beast and as Arya stroked it, it growled contentedly. Her hand rested between the spikes on its neck and back which were placed further apart than the others, for a saddle when it was old enough for her to ride. At this thought, Arya realised she did not know if the dragon was male or female. She reached into its mind, observing it and the internal organs. And then the memory came back to her. After the battle on the Burning Plains, Eragon had reported everything Murtagh had told him and how he had mentioned the last egg, how the dragon inside it was male, showing how Saphira was the last female dragon in existence.

Male.

A list of names came into Arya's head as she looked down at the dragon in her lap, trying them out.

_Ingothold? No, that doesn't fit. Roslarb? No. Eridor? That doesn't fit either. Vailnor? No, that not the right one._

Her eyelids drooped and it was only then she realised how tried she was.

_I'll think about this later_ she decided. Arya lay down, placing the dragon next to her and he yawned, showing rows of glittering teeth, all snowy white and she continued to stroke him as she slipped into her waking dreams.


	25. Chapter 25 -- Aches, Pains and Longing

25

**Aches, Pains and Longing**

_'Clear your mind, Potter,' said Snape's cold voice. 'Let go of all emotion…' _

**_– Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: J.K. Rowling_**

His back ached.

Eragon was reminded of the time when he had suffered the pains his back brought after Durza had slashed him from shoulder to hip. He scratched his chin, he needed to shave and it felt strange to have the stubble on his chin and he sighed and rolled over. Murtagh hadn't come back since he had been taken away just before Eragon had had his vision of Arya and he wondered how she was faring. Was she safe? This question worried him and he turned over and his back ached slightly. The pain had subsided over the past few days but had not faded completely and he had to be carefully not to twist in his sleep so much, as so not to tear open the scabs that littered his back now.

He hadn't been let out of his cell for the past few days and they past uneventfully, Eragon just sat there, stretching out his mind as much as he could (which wasn't much) and listened to the other prisoners thoughts along with those of the guards. He practiced the exercises that Oromis had taught him as much as he could and he did the Rimgar every morning, attracting interested glances from his guards but it wasn't their staring, taunts and whispers that bothered him. It wasn't the thoughts of the other prisoners that he could stand, he longed to see Saphira once more, to connect his mind to hers. He was so worried about what had happened to her, as far as he could tell, it was just her discomfort which was the worst thing for her at the moment, but Eragon could feel through the link which the drug failed to obliterate, that she too, longed to see Eragon once more and the merge her mind with his.

The other thing that worried him was Murtagh's condition; he had heard nothing of him over the past eleven days, not a whisper or mention of him, though he sometimes could hear Thorn's roars in the distance and he stomach twisted. He did not know why he was worried about Murtagh, he had kill Hrothgar, his foster father, captured him and Saphira and, the worst he had done but through no fault of his own, killed Oromis and Glaedr. Eragon hated Murtagh for that, anyone would he thought, but he could not help the stir of emotions that Murtagh's disappearance brought. What was the reason for these emotions? Was it because Murtagh was his half-brother? Or was it hope? Hope that Murtagh would shed his identity of who he was now, cursed, feared and hated, a scapegoat for Galbatorix and become the person that Eragon originally knew him as when they had been travelling in the Empire together, the person who helped rescue him from the Ra'zac and then from Gil'ead, had shot Durza in the forehead with an arrow, and who had been so desperate to help in the Battle of Farthen Dûr, feared and hated just because of who his father was.

_It may take a while but I believe that Murtagh can change who he has become, and to become a better person and the Varden and the free peoples of Alagaësia. We need all the help we can get. _Eragon thought.

He shivered slightly as a cold breeze wafted under the door and he sat up, registering the dull throb from his back and he got up and stretched, bored. The only times the door had opened was when food was put in and Eragon normally sulked in the corner whenever the door opened. The food had always comprised of lukewarm stew and it pained him to eat it and he resented himself for it. This was just Galbatorix taunting him further now, he knew that, but there was nothing else he could eat, unless he started eating the sand on the floor which he refused to do.

Eragon had taken off the blanket the day after his back had been cut open and he had touched the scabs and knew they would scar, maybe they were unhealable now for maybe the salt or the knife or both had been enchanted so he was prepared to have them for life. In other words, nothing had happened for...He had lost count of the days now but he was sure that it had been around two weeks.

He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, the rough fabric he had torn from the blanket wrapped around his palm, covering the gedwëy ignasia, just out of habit and so he would attract so many stares when they saw the oval on his palm.

_Ha! Like that wouldn't happen anyway!_ he thought. He finished with his stretch and he yawned, and then he started to glide through the poses of the second level of the Rimgar and he sensed the guard's interest but he ignored them as they slid back the hatch on the door to watch him. It felt good to do the familiar exercises and his back ached whenever he did a stretch in which his back was involved (which was nearly all of them) and by the time he was finished, he was covered in a sheen of sweat and he turned towards the guards outside the cell and they sneered at him, then slid the hatch shut and Eragon sat down, panting and he wiped himself down with one of the blankets he had set aside for wiping himself of the sweat that covered his limbs whenever he preformed the Rimgar in his cell.

Eragon felt the guards snigger to each other and he gave a hard stare towards the door, turning his back on the door and trudging towards the shelf and he sat down, drawing one knee up to his chest and putting his chin on his knee, watching the door and his gaze kept flicking towards the cell next to him, in a hope that Murtagh would come back, so he would at least have some company apart from the guards outside the door and the occasional prisoner or guard that came marching past the cell. Eragon looked towards the floor, in the dim light, he could make out every grain of dirt by his feet, the occasional bug that crawled along the walls and he examined their minds whenever he got the chance.

He prepared himself for another uneventful day when he felt a shielded mind drawing closer to the cell and the hairs on the back of Eragon's neck stood up and he straightened up and lounged into a more relaxed position as the sound of boots drew closer and soon the person drew close to the door and had a quick conversation to the guards who both grunted in reply and Eragon heard the jangle of keys in the lock and the door swung open in creaking hinges. Eragon looked up and hissed as Salcarthar stepped into the cell, a broad smile on his face.

'The King wishes to see you, young Rider.' he sneered and Eragon felt Salcarthar reach towards the flow of magic and he raised his hand. 'Letta.' he said, almost lazily and Eragon froze and Salcarthar looked back at him, taking him from the cell and the two of them exited the prison block.

The weather was cold and grey and clouds massed over head, adding to the gloomy atmosphere and the two wound their way between the bushes that comprised of the courtyard before Galbatorix's throne room and Salcarthar swung open the heavy doors as they drew close to the throne room and the magician shoved Eragon in before him and he quickly shut the double doors and they boomed as they closed. Salcarthar grabbed Eragon by the scruff of his neck and marched him forwards. Eragon choked and he tried to hit Salcarthar, but the spell held him in place and Salcarthar gave him a flat stare, as if the effort wasn't worth it and he flung Eragon down in front of the throne.

'My King!' Salcarthar cried, bending slightly at his waist but his eyes remained trained on the throne. 'The Rider, as you requested.'

'Leave us,' Galbatorix said and Salcarthar walked backwards, never straightening his back and always showing the back of his neck as he exited the throne room. Eragon looked up to see the King's cold black eyes on him, one hand under his chin and the other rested on the right arm of the throne, his fingers drumming on the marble absentmindedly. Galbatorix remained silent for a few seconds, then, 'You and Murtagh have given me quite some trouble, Eragon. First, there is the matter of Durza, who you slew under Farthen Dûr some months ago, and then, on the Burning Plains when Murtagh let you go which resulted in many things, the death of the Ra'zac, who were among my most faithful servants, and you, with the help of an elf, killed a second Shade which I ordered my spellcasters to create if the battle at Feinster turned for the worst, and, the most recent, the green egg.

'All of these are part of the reasons why I brought you here today, what I should have done when you first arrived and will allow me to progress in my plans to quench the hope and faith of the Varden and the others who deify my rule; and to restore the dragon race with too much of a struggle.'

Eragon's gut twisted, he knew this was coming and he dreaded the time when it would come and he had already begun to experience what it was like when Murtagh sent the egg to who knows where, Eragon just hoped that it was in safe hands.

Galbatorix's eyes glittered as he could see the solution that Eragon had come to.

'Yes, exactly. You will be under my complete control since you cannot be subdued in the way I'd hoped, but no matter, this will be effective, for now at least.'

Galbatorix rose from his throne and slowly walked down the steps towards Eragon who he immobilised with a quick spell and the King towered over him. Eragon wet his lips and shut his eyes, bracing himself for the mental assault.

None came for a few seconds, but then a force of immense power came at Eragon and tore through his mind. Eragon gritted his teeth and memories, memories of his past life came to him, and memories of what had happened to him after he had slew Durza:

The feast at Tarnag held in his and Saphira's honour and the roast Narga. Rafting up the Az Ragni and towards Ellesméra. Here, Eragon tried to block his mind and not let Galbatorix see the way towards the elven capital but the King brushed aside his barriers easily and he found it interesting to see the way to the city and Eragon fought and struggled in his mind by Galbatorix paid no attention to him, it was as if he were a fly, buzzing in the King's ear who ignored it and swatted it away every few seconds.

_Please, no._ Eragon thought but the King had already seen it all and he continued to flick through the memories, vaguely skipping past the part when Eragon and Saphira had met Oromis and Glaedr. The long days on the Crags of Tel'naeír and Galbatorix examined in full detail, the night of the Agaetí Blödhren when Eragon had been changed by the dragons and Eragon then had to relive the moment when he had confessed his true feelings to Arya and the words echoed in his head.

_'Arya, I'll do anything to win your hand. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I would build a palace for you with nothing but my bare hands. I would-'_

_'Will you stop pursuing me? Can you promise me that? Eragon, this cannot be. You are young and I am old, and that shall never change.'_

_'Do you feel nothing for me?' Eragon had pleaded._

_'My feelings for you are those of a friend and nothing more,' Arya had replied._

Eragon felt his heart break all over again as he saw the memory and he heard Arya's words once more and he wept inside. And then came the memory of when he had beheld Carvahall, only to find the village gone. He once again saw the mirror shatter and he opened his eyes as Galbatorix released him from his grasp once more, it was as if the shattering of the mirror had shattered Galbatorix's grasp on him and he sat there, shaking in his renewed grief, hearing once again the stinging words that Arya had told him and he slumped, once more a broken man.

'How touching,' Galbatorix purred 'Who is this 'Arya' in the memory? I am most curious about her, now, shall we continue?'

Galbatorix once again, enveloped Eragon's mind and he saw his flight from Du Weldenvarden to Aberon, and then to the Burning Plains, when the Urgals had sworn themselves to the Varden and how Eragon had examined the minds of the four Kull who had guarded him on the Burning Plains and then the battle had surrounded him, the screams of dying men, Saphira's roars and the sounds of metal striking metal. Blood was everywhere and Eragon's vision was tinted red as he, and Du Vrangr Gata searched for the magicians in the Empire's ranks and the man's voice as he killed himself.

_...ordered not to kill you or the dragon...not to kill you or the dragon._ And Eragon's dread as he and Saphira saw a blood red dragon fly above them and how they grappled with them and his fight with the Rider in the skies and when he had clashed with him on the ground, ripping off his helm to discover the Rider was Murtagh, and the final, terrible secret that Murtagh had told him.

_Morzansson._ Galbatorix's voice echoed throughout Eragon's head as he once again, extracted himself from Eragon's memories. He cocked his head and glared at Eragon who was slumped on the floor, silent tears splashing onto the marble.

'Morzansson,' Galbatorix repeated in his ear, and he then drew back to look at Eragon. 'We are done for today and this shall continue soon; I need time to think about this.'


	26. Chapter 26 -- The Knowing

26

**The Knowing**

_A small creature was clinging upside down to one of the branches. It was covered in purple scales, the colour of violets in the sunshine. Down its back was a row of sharp spines. Its tail was wrapped around the branch. It had large paws that seemed much too big for its body. Each paw had four sharp black talons that were all digging into the tree bark. The little creature turned its upside-down head towards Ping. Bright-green eyes blinked anxiously._

_ **– Garden of the Purple Dragon: Carole Wilkinson**_

Something brushed against Arya's nose, making it twitch and a weight shifted on her belly, and then she heard the shuffling of wings.

_Wings._

_Saphira! _Arya called with her thoughts, opening her eyes and jumping to her feet, expecting to see the great dragon in front of her with Eragon on her back. There was a squeak as something fell to the floor and Arya looked down to see the green dragon looking back up at her crossly and his thoughts and feelings made him seem angry and he snapped a little at her feet and she jumped back. His head hurt from the force of her mental shout and he shook it slightly, puffing smoke and sneezing. Arya licked her lips and crouched down and the dragon bounded towards her, jumping into her arms, twisting around and burying his head into her neck.

_I'm sorry, _Arya said mentally and the dragon looked at her with wide eyes, and then closed them and began to hum slightly. Arya felt a dim feeling through her bond with the dragon which she interpreted into forgiveness and she looked around the small clearing which she and the dragon had slept in last night.

The fragments of the egg shell lay to one side and she quickly picked them up and turned towards the Varden's camp and began to run slowly back. When she reach the Jiet River, Arya once again said, 'Rïsa!' and she began to float slightly and she felt the dragon squirming her arms, fighting to get out of her embrace but she restrained him and she sent him soothing images throughout her bond with the dragon and he angrily pushed them away. Arya then received a feeling, of wanting to escape her grasp and to soar over the rushing current and it was only then she noticed that the dragon was flailing his wings around, trying to flap them but her arms held them to his sides.

Realising what he wanted, Arya let go and he dropped slightly and Arya lunged forwards to catch him, but then he started to power his wing muscles and he bobbed back up again, his huge wings catching the breeze and Arya smiled, then directed herself towards the Varden, the dragon swooping around her and occasionally faltering, but he always righted himself before falling into the waters. Arya dropped the egg fragments into the river when she guessed they were over halfway across and watched them sink into the gloomy water.

Arya released the spell when she and the dragon reached the far side of the river and the dragon slowly circled above her and landed in her arms, squeaking and he curled into a tight ball and Arya smiled down at him, and then turned towards the Varden and began to run towards the distance camp. She arrived a few minutes later and slipped past the guards and silently as she could and made sure the dragon stayed quite with her mind and the dragon growled softly in her arms. At times, he wriggled in an attempt to get out of her arms, wanting to explore the world and it took all of her willpower to make him stay in her grasp. Whenever someone came around a corner, she pulled back sharply and hid in among the tents to make sure that person didn't see the dragon and Arya felt his annoyance every time she did this and she quickly stroked his head to calm him.

Arya reached the command pavilion without incident and slipped around the Nighthawks and into the tent. Nasuada was examining some of her newly restored notes since the egg had destroyed a lot of them, and she walked up to her.

'Since you worried so much,' Arya began and Nasuada gave a small scream as Arya start to speak. The dragon jumped and crawled up onto Arya's shoulder, hiding between her neck and hair, hissing slightly and Arya let him hiss at Nasuada. 'I've returned.'

'How did you get in here without the Nighthawks seeing you?' Nasuada whispered, looking up and jumping as she saw the dragon coiled around Arya's shoulders. 'Is that...?'

'To answer your questions, I sneaked past them, one of the many talents of the elves, and secondly, yes, it is.' At the same time, Arya held up her palm and Nasuada sucked in her breath as she saw the silvery mark the dragon had left on her right hand. 'Know this, Nasuada. I am the first elven Rider in over one hundred years and I shall assist the Varden, but I shall not swear my loyalties to you and not make you my leigelord.'

'That is preposterous!'

'Do you want my help or not, Nasuada?'

'I...Yes,' Nasuada said finally, clutching at the table and finally sitting down in her chair. 'When did the dragon hatch?' Nasuada finally asked, gesturing at him.

'He hatched last night.'

'And the egg fragments?'

'At the bottom of the River.'

'The last thing we need now is the Empire knowing that the last egg has hatched. Arya, you must keep this secret for a time being, we can't let anyone know of this. You and...What's his name?'

'He doesn't have a name yet.'

'Oh. But as I was saying, this dragon and you, you two are our greatest hope of winning this war now, and getting Eragon and Saphira back.'

Arya's stomach dropped.

_So much rests on my shoulders, and the dragon's_. She looked around at him and he looked back with bright eyes; so young and so innocent, yet he had been thrown into the middle of this. So many people now depended on her and the dragon.

Arya looked back at Nasuada.

'How are we going to hide this? People would notice a dragon roaming around the camp, even if they don't see him, there will be signs of his existence.'

'Couldn't you erase these with magic though?'

'Probably, but it will be hard.'

'Then, we must do this and hope for the best. News of this will eventually break out once they realise that the egg has disappeared.'

'Or, since it was decided that I was the egg bearer, the most obvious solution would be to say that I have taken the egg to Gil'ead.'

'That is the obvious path,' Nasuada agreed.

'Then we will have to decide on this, shall we walk it or tread a different path?'

'We shall walk it, for this road may lead us to victory, but then again, who knows if the other road will be the right choice?'

'Then let us tread carefully.'

Nasuada nodded in agreement and stood.

'He's beautiful,' Nasuada murmured, reaching towards the dragon that hissed and showed his teeth, digging his claws into Arya's shoulder.

_She's a friend,_ Arya told him. He growled, puzzled and cocked his head and looked at Arya. Arya concentrated and pushed harder on the dragon's mind. _She's a friend. Do not hurt her._

The dragon lashed his tail and grew still and Nasuada reached out her hand towards him and he drew back slightly, but allowed her to rub his head. Arya felt the sense of distrust radiate from him and it was only Arya's faith in Nasuada which stopped him biting off Nasuada's fingers. He growled low in his throat and Nasuada took her hand away.

'He has spirit,' Nasuada murmured as the dragon took two small steps backwards, showing his tiny teeth. Arya winced slightly as he dug his claws into her shoulder.

'Nasuada,' Arya put in and Nasuada turned her gaze on the elf.

'Oh, yes. Well, this is one of the many questions that we wanted answered, answered. It seems that you, Arya, are the last Rider that may ever be.'

'This may be so, and it is a great honour to be chosen, amongst the many who were able to be the Rider,' Arya said and the dragon's tail began to flick and he relaxed his grip on Arya's shoulder. 'But so much more remains unanswered.' Arya then said to Nasuada seriously. 'What of when the Varden break camp? Someone then is sure to notice the dragon.'

Nasuada cursed and thought for a moment.

'Winter will be setting in soon anyway. My thoughts then on the situation then would be to seize Belatona and stay there for the winter, and during that time, the dragon can grow and we will break the news to the Varden soon afterwards, hopefully relighting many quenched fires, relighting the flicker of hope that burned on many people's heart when Eragon and Saphira revealed themselves to the world.'

'But is this wise? If the dragon's secret is to be kept, then many people might start to distrust you, for they will not know what other secrets you hold.'

Nasuada bit her lip, stood up and started to pace.

'Then I shall gamble and be prepared to take this risk, for the sakes of Alagaësia, the last thing we need is the King to find out about the last egg hatching.'

'Should the elves know of this?'

'Yes, if they will keep their silence.'

'They will, I will have them swear it in the ancient language.'

'Very well then, I shall have a messenger fetch them.'

Arya retreated to a corner and shielded hers and the dragon's mind as Nasuada summoned a messenger boy, quickly told him to find the elves and he ran off amongst the tents.

'Relath is swift and fast and he will return shortly with the elves.

'That is good.' Arya murmured and the waited in silence for a few minutes. Arya set the dragon down and he wondered around the table and flew up onto the table top with a flutter of wings. He brushed past Arya's arm and she stroked him on the head and he hummed slightly. He kept away from Nasuada and kept looking at her, baring his small teeth and flicking his tail at her. Arya felt the minds of the elves coming towards the pavilion and she shielded the dragon's mind quickly and she retreated to the corner again as the twelve elves entered the tent along with the messenger boy, Relath, who Nasuada quickly dismissed and she turned towards the elves.

'Lady Nasuada.' Blödhgarm said, twisting his hand over his chest. 'Atra esterní ono thelduin.'

Nasuada nodded to him and she began to speak.

'Good fortune ruled over us last night outside the camp, one that gives us new hope and a real chance to get Eragon and Saphira back and to defeat Galbatorix.' Nasuada looked around at the assembled elves. 'Arya,' she continued, turning towards the shadows and Arya stepped into the light and the elves gasped as they saw the dragon, which was once again curled around her neck. Arya raised her palm and revealed the gedwëy ignasia that glowed there and the elves came forward one at a time, muttering 'Argetlam,' under their breath and admiring the dragon, leaving Nasuada standing alone in the middle of the tent.

'We now have a real chance at defeating the King, and for this, we will need two things from you, your word and your help.'

'We will do anything to help a Rider and dragon.' Blödhgarm purred.

'Arya and I will need your word that you will keep this secret for a time being until the dragon is revealed to the Varden. You must not tell anybody of this unless Arya or I give you our permission.'

The elves each lined up and gave their word to Arya and Nasuada not to reveal the presence of the new Rider and dragon.

'And now, we need you to help us cover up the existence of the dragon with your magic. Will you help us?'

'We will,' they said in the ancient language and Arya nodded, pleased by their answer.

'Good, and thank you to you all for your help, it is very much appreciated and good work will come of it.'

The elves bowed low and Nasuada turned her gaze on the thirteen. 'Please leave me be now, I must get back to my notes, thank you all for your time.'

The thirteen of them exited the tent and Blödhgarm whispered a spell of concealment over the dragon and he vanished from view as they brushed aside the tent flaps and began to wind their way through the tents, people casting curious glances at them and Arya withdrew her right hand into her sleeve. The dragon lay still by an untold command and rested his head on Arya's left shoulder. Arya came to her tent and the elves amassed around it and Blödhgarm lifted his spell and the dragon shimmered into existence once more and he hopped into Arya's lap, yawned, curled up and shut his eyes. Arya settled down on the bed and smiled, lying down and the dragon began to hum ever so slightly and a small puff of smoke escaped his nostrils.

She lay there in the silence and jumped as a conscious touched her own.

_Is that an infant dragon I sense?_


	27. Chapter 27 -- The Rider's Recreation

27

**The Riders Recreation**

_He was too startled to do anything at all._

_'But first there is someone else who would talk with you,' called Eloin, and then she was gone, running after her friends._

_ **– Fire Bringer: David Clement-Davis**_

The manacles dug into Murtagh's wrists and he opened his eyes. His stomach rumbled and he licked his lips, they were chapped and dry and he looked upwards. Sunlight leaked through a grate above his head and it taunted him. The Rat Hole, he had dubbed it, and he had only been here twice. It resembled a well and the walls were each forty feet high and the grate was set into the ground in the main square in Urû'baen so the light was occasionally blocked as people walked over the grate. Sometimes, Murtagh could see the face of a small curious child looking down at him and he had shielded his face every time this had happened. He hated it when people starred at him when he was in prison and he felt better if he could see the people doing it. When it rained, well, there was no cover so he sat there, shivering and dripping wet until it passed. He was slumped against a wall and his hands and feet were bound by iron chains and they were heavy and tight.

Ever since he had transported the egg hopefully to the Varden and after Galbatorix had tortured him, he had been here, alone, in the dark and he only eat once every two days. He was worried about Thorn though, that was on the top of his 'To worry about' list and there was a constant ache in his belly about Thorn. He had been tortured, no doubt by Shruikan, just as Murtagh had been tortured by Galbatorix over the last few days because Murtagh had felt Thorn's pain across the mental link he shared with him and the guards had found it highly amusing when he had started screaming for, what seemed to them, no apparent reason. They had jeered at him but he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared anytime after that and he had realised only days ago that he had _used_ to care when people made fun of him, but not so much anymore.

_Would this be helping with changing my true name? _He wondered and he remembered how Eragon reacted when guards outside his cell shouted at him, just an annoyed glance towards the door. He had been trying to change these little traits about him which he didn't used to do. He resolved to not disrespect people as much, something that was going to be hard to throw off for he had seen his father and Galbatorix mercilessly punishing servants and people who didn't do as they pleased and he had come to expect this of the Dragon Riders.

He hadn't heard many stories of the Riders when he was a child and he didn't know how to behave and he had gotten a real shock when he saw Eragon's behaviour towards people, leaving him confused about what was right. When Thorn had hatched for him, had had taken the option which he considered was right for the Dragon Riders, finally able to let out his anger and frustration on people who displeased him; and now he was expected to change this behaviour. It seemed right and he was determined to do the right thing and he remembered making the oath to himself that he would not follow in Morzan's footsteps; and he had been miserably failing.

Murtagh dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, drawing blood but he ignored it, this was nothing compared to the wounds he had endured in the past, his back for example, he had gotten the long scar when he had been three years old, no child should have had to go through an experience like that, but this was Morzan, this was part of the influence he had gotten for most of his life.

He curled up and sat with his back against the wall, rocking back and forth, waiting for food to come for it had been the day before yesterday since he had last eaten. He sat for two hours at least, for he could see the sun moving across the sky and then he heard the heavy door open and he turned his head to see who had come into the cell. A beefy man came into the room and he sneered at Murtagh and he glared back, but just sat there as the man lumbered over to him. He had tree trunk arms and his nose was slightly squashed and he shoved a plate of food towards Murtagh and he despaired when he saw the meal he had been given. It was a lump of cheese and bread covered in mould. He picked off the mould and ate the bread and then the crude lump of cheese, both of which he gagged down and his stomach complained at the meal and rumbled yet again and the man snatched the plate away, turned his back on Murtagh and lumbered out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Murtagh leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, and then moved his head into his hands, shaking with cold and he looked up to the skies once more and saw that night was rolling in fast and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering and his teeth chattering and he laid himself down and tried to go to sleep, finally succeeding after hours.

* * *

**CLATTERING** AWOKE MURTAGH and he opened his eyes slightly to see the door opening and someone stepped into the room, torch in hand. Murtagh pressed himself into the wall and he quickly looked skywards and a full moon shone back at him. He heard footsteps coming towards him and he snapped his eyes to the incoming person. Murtagh couldn't see his face properly but as the person crouched down, key in hand to unlock the manacles. Murtagh caught a whiff of the person's breath and it was laid heavy with alcohol. Now Murtagh could see bloodshot eyes under a helmet and the guard was muttering under his breath and Murtagh gagged on the smell of the alcohol on the man's breath.

As the manacles fell away, Murtagh scrambled upright and swung his fist in the guard's direction, but he was slow and tired. Even in his drunken state, the guard dodged easily and hoisted Murtagh over his shoulder and Murtagh thumped his back and kicked his legs but the guard paid on attention, only shouted, 'Shu' up you dir'y son of a trai'or!' and pressed his fingers into the back of Murtagh's neck and he cried out in agony as pain bloomed in those spots where the guard had pushed his fingers. Murtagh ceased to struggle as the guard hauled him out of the room and towards the door, marching and slightly staggering due to his drunkenness and lumbered up a small winding passageway and singing a small song under his breath:

_Over bridges and over mountains,_

_Did the young man travel._

_To seek the heart;_

_O' the beau'iful heart!_

_Of the sweet fair maiden._

_Journeying through the many days and nights._

_Did he ride, on his great white stallion._

_To seek the heart;_

_O' the beau'iful heart!_

_Of the sweet fair maiden._

Murtagh had no idea what the song was about but he continued to listen as the guard tottered up the stone corridors, inserting a key into a lock on the door that connected to the main prison block and he swung the door open and Murtagh's heart sank as he saw Salcarthar waiting on the other side and he began to kick and struggle once more, clawing at the guard's back and he shrugged Murtagh off his shoulder and Salcarthar immobilized him with a spell, and then tossed a small copper to the guard.

'Thank'ee.' He mumbled, staggering off no doubt to get back to his bottle and continuing to sing his song about the maiden now dying in the young man's arms after being pieced in the heart by a dagger in the man's anger.

_Oh how 'e weeped when he saw the maiden_

_Dying in his arms._

_As she sank in'o her lover's embrace,_

_Fading with a last shaking breath,_

_And how he wept for 'er._

_And the heart;_

_O' the beautiful heart!_

_Of the sweet fair maiden._

_Did cease to beat and the young man howled,_

_Lost in 'is anguish and sorrow._

As his voice faded, Salcarthar kicked Murtagh and forced him to get to his feet, slipping a small dagger under his throat and pushing him forwards. Murtagh climbed the steps that lead outside and a soldier opened the gate for the two of them.

Moonlight now bathed the palace and the place was eerily silent now as Salcarthar walked Murtagh towards the throne room and it crossed Murtagh's mind then why the King wished to see him in the middle of the night. The doors to the throne room creaked open and Salcarthar shoved Murtagh inside and shut the door. Murtagh landed on his hands and knees, wondering why Salcarthar hadn't walked him up to the throne as he normally did.

The torches in the brackets lining the walls flared and little in a wave from the door to the throne and Murtagh jumped as a cold voice issued out of the shadows on his immediate left.

'You must be wondering why I have brought you here at this hour, Murtagh,' a cold smooth voice said, oily and persuasive and the King stepped out of the shadows, startling Murtagh as he scrambled backwards. Galbatorix was dressed in a midnight blue robe, Blödhald on his left hip and his dark eyes glittering as he saw the effect he had had on Murtagh.

'Yes,' Murtagh said to the wall two feet over Galbatorix's head and he sneered.

'You are lucky tonight that I will ignore your rudeness and let it pass. Let us walk.'

Murtagh got to his feet grudgingly and walked towards the King who turned on his heel towards the doors which grinded open. Murtagh guessed that it was around half an hour past midnight and Galbatorix's footsteps echoed around the courtyard. His robes billowed behind him and Murtagh stayed back a couple of paces from the King, because he didn't want to be near the traitor and because the King would want the smallest excuse to torture him at any point.

'It has been a while now since you have joined the mantle of the Riders,' Galbatorix started and Murtagh mumbled a small 'Yes.' Galbatorix looked around at him, stopping and turning his head.

'Why are you back there?' he asked and Murtagh quickly hurried forwards to come to levels with the King. He eyed Murtagh for a second, and then continued walking through the low hedges. 'That was about six months ago now, wasn't it?'

'Yes. My Lord,' Murtagh added grudgingly and he saw satisfaction in Galbatorix's eyes.

'Then it would be around time that Thorn would be able to mate.'

Murtagh stopped dead and the horror at what the King was saying washed over him. He knew of what the King wanted to do but he had always thought that Galbatorix was going to use Shruikan for the recreation of the Riders, not Thorn and idea repulsed him and he stepped back.

'Not Thorn, please don't use Thorn for this.'

'You defy my will?'

'I will do anything to protect Thorn,' Murtagh replied and he cringed as he saw fury replace the satisfaction in Galbatorix's eyes. This was a dangerous gamble he had taken and he braced himself for the pain to start but was surprised when he heard a soft chuckle from Galbatorix.

'Such is the bond between dragon and Rider, now you can understand why I did what I did when…Jarnunvösk died.'

Galbatorix fingered Blödhald and Murtagh saw the loss that Galbatorix had felt over the years transform on his features but it was quickly covered up and the King turned his cold gazed on Murtagh once more who flinched and before King pressed on.

'Imagine what it would feel like if you knew that Thorn was the father of the new dragon race, how people would praise him for making it possible for the dragons, and of course, the Riders to return, and then a new age of peace will dawn over Alagaësia, all of possible because of Thorn, and through him, you.'

Galbatorix's voice was coated in honey and Murtagh saw a thin trail of silver in his eyes and Murtagh shook his head, the words were heavy in his mind and he realised Galbatorix was weaving a spell into the words and he struggled to throw off the sound of those words and Murtagh's mouth was dry and he blurted out:

'But why not Shruikan?' It was a stupid question to ask but the thin silver trail left Galbatorix's eyes here.

'I thought that would be obvious to any idiot. Considering both the size of that stupid black beast and of Saphira.'

Murtagh felt the colour rise in his cheeks as he remembered the hulking black dragon and the eyes that seemed to be devoid of pupils and the vicious scar across his muzzle. He understood the reasoning now and he almost pleaded to the King, 'Why Thorn? Please, I'll do anything but just not Thorn.'

The King began to laugh coldly and his eyes widened in his mirth.

'This is your punishment for what happened to the egg a few days ago.'

'Please! Whip me! Beat me! Throw me in a pool of seithr oil but please do not make Thorn do this!' Murtagh begged, falling to his knees and the King laughed harder.

'I would be happy to do that but Thorn will mate with Saphira anyway.'

Murtagh didn't hesitate to answer.

'I'll do anything. I will find the egg and I shall bring it back to you, and if the dragon has hatched, I shall bring back their Rider, to correct my mistake. I swear it. But please don't do this! '

'Yes, you will find the egg and bring it back but all the same, Thorn will mate with Saphira and that will not change.'

Murtagh howled and flew at the King, wanting to stop him, to hurt him as badly as possible but Galbatorix stopped him with a word and Murtagh could see that he almost looked bored.

'Return to your quarters, Du Wydra abr Zar'roc, and do not challenge me to this conversation again for I stand firm.'


	28. Chapter 28 -- You Cannot Back Out

28

**You Cannot Back Out**

_The great doors slammed to. Boom. The bars of iron fell into place inside. Clang. The gate was shut. _

_**- **_**_Lord of the Rings_****_: The Two Towers: J.R.R. Tolkien_**

Thorn opened his eyes as Shruikan twisted around in his slumber, his eyes wandering sightlessly under the lids and he lashed his black-as-coals-tail and Thorn rolled over, wrapping his own tail about his legs. It was late, Thorn could tell that and he was at first confused to about why he had woken up at first and he stretched his wings, light from a small wax taper in the corner shining through the flying-thorns-arrow-holes in his wings and he stretched them over his head and began to lick the scabs that had formed around the edges. He hated it how his partner-for-life-Murtagh hadn't healed the rough edges but he liked the look it gave his wings, it made him look tough and brave and he smiled to himself.

As Murtagh crossed his mind, Thorn shuddered. He hadn't seen his Rider for two weeks now and Thorn was desperately worried about him. The small hatchling he cared for so deeply; always acting first before thinking. This little part of his personality had attracted Thorn's attention from when he was in his egg and was part of the many reasons why Thorn had hatched for Murtagh, he liked to think of himself as tough, brave and bold and he had come into the world, hoping to prove himself, but he did not expect the world to be so hard for him, so cruel and violent and war tearing it to shreds. Thorn had felt the evil-thoughts-King-Galbatorix when he was in his egg and wondered why he was always lurking around, his mind twisted and bitter and full of hate and Thorn had drawn into himself whenever he was around. But when he had sensed Murtagh, that was when he had opened his eyes and started to twist in his egg and finally hatching and after he had been bonded to Murtagh, was taken away from him.

Thorn could barely remember it and he stood up and arched his back and began pacing around the small area, ducking slightly as Shruikan's tail passed over head once again and he opened one eye, growling slightly as he saw Thorn wandering around. He gazed at the red dragon for a few seconds, and then slid his eye shut again, a rumble coming from deep within his chest. Thorn walked over to one of the corners of the black-hard-cold-stone-marble that the room was made of, his dagger-talons scraping against the floor and he settled himself down and was about to resume his sleep when he felt a sharp pain in his side and Thorn yowled, waking Shruikan once more.

_Murtagh! _Thorn cried and Shruikan snorted, and rolled over, shielding his eyes with his left wing. Thorn jumped up and snarled at the ceiling, wanting it to vanish so he could fly to Murtagh and rip the head off who had hurt his partner.

_You're lucky that you have someone to worry about._

Thorn locked his eyes onto Shruikan who had spoken and he growled.

_What do you know about it? _Thorn snapped and Shruikan growled low in his throat.

_I'm saying that you are lucky that you do have someone to worry about. That was taken from me long ago by the traitor-snake-tongue-King, _Shruikan answered coldly.

Thorn glared at the black dragon and bounded over to the door and sat there, watching it and flicking his tail, worry gnawing at his belly and he started to scratch at the door but the magic-cast-wood that the door was made of showed no signs of his efforts to break it down with his dagger-sharp-claws. Thorn began pounding against it. He had to get out and the door boomed and Thorn felt the guards stiffen with alarm and wheel around. Thorn roared and continued to pound at the door, shouldering against it and he growled, opening his jaws and he bellowed, ruby-scales-flames leaping from his mouth whist Shruikan watched, not interested. Thorn felt the dragon touch his mind again but he pushed him away, wrapping his mind in a tight shield and he resumed his battering of the door, the iron-linked-chains on the other side of the door clinking, straining and groaning. Thorn roared once again and began to swipe at the door with his claws, rising up on both back legs to batter the door with his paws.

Thorn continued this for another fifteen minutes and then gave up, but didn't move from position by the door and his eyelids dropped and Thorn fought to stay awake but sleep soon claimed him and he settled down, not leaving his post by the door.

_He dreamt that he was free, free and away from Urû'baen, safe with Murtagh and Thorn heard another dragon roar and he swung around and his heart hardened when he saw who it was. He wasn't safe at all and black-scales-Shruikan was winging his way towards Thorn and Murtagh, the snake-King-Galbatorix on his back, dressed in armour and purple-glitter-sword-Blödhald unsheathed. Thorn tucked in his wings close to his sides and plummeted downwards and through a layer of clouds and Thorn saw a battle raging on the ground. He shifted through the various odours and picked up pointed-ears-elves and round-ears-humans, short-stocky-bearded-dwarves and grey-skin-sharp-horned-Urgals. _

_Thorn looked over his shoulder and saw Shruikan diving towards him, black flames dancing in his mouth and Galbatorix seated on his back, his magnificent armour shining in a bloody red sun. Shruikan was gaining fast on Thorn and Murtagh was urging him to hurry and when the black dragon was a few feet away, he buckled and Thorn, extended his wings, snapping his head around to see a beautiful sapphire dragon on Shruikan's neck and Thorn's heart leapt. Another dragon flew into Shruikan, this one emerald green and an elf with flying black hair sat upon his back, a sword of matching colour held tight in her hand. The blue dragon, whom Thorn recognised as Saphira, threw back her head and bit, hard and deep into Shruikan's neck and he howled, his eyes alight with pain and Thorn changed his direction as the black dragon brought his head around and inhaled deeply._

No! _Thorn roared and he let lose a bellow of rage and his heart hammered. Saphira's-Rider-Eragon swung his head around and his eyes widened in fear and he heard his voice in his head._

Saphira! Dive!

_Coal-black-flames once again engulfed Shruikan's mouth and…_

There was hammering on the door and Thorn opened his eyes, sleepily and Thorn became fully aware when a familiar voice cut through those of the metal-armour-guard-soldiers.

'I said let me in or will I have to force myself in,' a quiet voice said and Thorn recognised it as Murtagh's and he threw out his consciousness towards the-partner-of-his-mind-and-soul.

_Thorn! _Murtagh's voice was weak and Thorn was anxious about what this meant.

_What has happened? Why does your voice sound so weak?_

_I'm fine, it's just the drug that my food has been spiked with for the last couple of weeks, and it hasn't fully worn off yet._

Thorn could sense something heavy weighing down Murtagh's heart and the knot of worry in his stomach tightened.

_Something is bothering you. What is it?_

_I'll tell you when I get past this damned door! _Murtagh growled and he began to speak again to the guards.

'So, will you open this door without a struggle?'

'It's on the King's orders that no one but himself is allowed to go through this door, even if they held a sword to our necks! I'm sorry, Murtagh sir, but you will have to get the King's say so to see your dragon.'

Thorn felt Murtagh's anger bristle through him and his sense of urgency increased as well but he did not start to shout as he normally did and his voice remained quiet and dripping with venom.

'So you are refusing to let me see my dragon.'

'Yes, sir,' the guard said, his voice quaking and Thorn heard Murtagh snort.

'I guess then this will have to be done the hard way.'

Thorn heard the sound of fighting next and a shout of pain and the sound of a steel-edge-sharp-cut-sword sliding from a sheath, another thud and all was silent once again. Thorn felt Murtagh concentrate and reach inside himself for the flow of word-will-energy, a curse and then Murtagh spoke to Thorn again.

_Help me! This beam is too heavy for me to lift and there are many wards on the door. Lend me your strength and the words._

_Gladly, _Thorn replied and sent a rush of energy into his partner. After a few minutes of whispering in the ancient-language-of-power, the door creaked open and Murtagh sprinted in. Thorn could see two motionless figures lying in the hallway but his full focus was on Murtagh and he too bounded forwards and Murtagh ran into him and they embraced each other's minds.

_Thorn! _Murtagh cried and he looked up at the ruby dragon and he started to hum and Murtagh buried his head once again into Thorn's leg.

_Small one, what is it that weighs down your heart? _Thorn asked in a caring voice and Thorn felt Murtagh's dread flow across their bond. _What is it?_

_Something horrible, but I have to tell you. _

Murtagh licked his lips and his gaze was towards the wall when he said it. _Galbatorix plans to have you mate with Saphira to restore the dragon race._

Thorn's heart stopped and he backed away ever so slightly from the-partner-of-his-mind-and-soul-Murtagh. His breathing was heavy and black-scales-Shruikan shifted his weight.

_I was wondering way that traitor felt so jubilant last night, this must be why, _he said slowly and seriously.

_No, _Thorn whimpered, _I don't want to do this._

_I know. We need to do something. I will do anything I can to stop this from coming around._

Thorn was pacing around moaning and his breathing was fast.

_Please, no. No! _Thorn howled.

_Thorn! _Murtagh said but Thorn snarled at him and he stepped back.

_Get away! _Thorn hissed.

_I'm trying to help! _Murtagh shouted.

_Leave me alone! _

_I will do anything to help._

_I said, get away!_

Thorn hated fighting with Murtagh but he was afraid, angry and scared. He wasn't ready and he never wanted this to happen. He had fantasized being with Saphira and possibly mating with her, but not this. He was shaking and one word rang through his mind: _No._

Thorn roared, long and loud and Murtagh blocked his ears and Shruikan hissed, he flexed his claws and showed his teeth and then he went ridged and he swung his head towards the door. Murtagh looked around as well and Thorn looked out of the corner of his eye, such was his distress. A lone soldier stood at the door, a welt on his head and sword in hand.

'And you force me to do this the hard way, sir,' he whispered and before any of the dragons or Murtagh could stop him, the soldier heaved the door shut.

Murtagh ran forwards and banged on the door.

'Let me out!' he shouted and Shruikan growled low in his throat. Thorn's stomach dropped and the cold-claw-of-fear gripped his belly, Murtagh was trapped and there was no getting out and he knew that if Murtagh was caught in here without the King's permission, he was dead. Thorn could hear the soldier running to find the King.


	29. Chapter 29 -- Glaedr's Tale

29

**Glaedr's Tale**

_I cannot tell my story without going a long way back. _

_**– Demian: Herman Hesse**_

'Who are you?' Arya demanded, her eyes searching the tent and there was a deep mental chuckle.

_Do you not recognise my voice, Arya Svit-kona?_

The voice had an edge of sadness in it and it powerful, ancient and wise and Arya froze.

_Glaedr-elda? _she whispered and the dragon cocked his head, sniffing the air and he climbed into Arya's lap.

_Is that an infant dragon? _Glaedr asked again.

_Yes, _Arya whispered and she felt Glaedr shifting through her thoughts and then stretching his mind out to the dragon who stiffened at the contact, his nose and tail twitching and Glaedr sent him and image and then a smell and the dragon squeaked with delight.

_Arya, you have been granted a great honour; he is a fine dragon._

Arya felt a sting of pride and she then asked, _Why did you seek us out, Glaedr Goldenscales?_

Glaedr thought for a moment before replying.

_There were two reasons which brought me out of my mourning. The first is the dragon that now currently resides in your lap, and the second was there was someone on the edge of my consciousness this morning and they were despairing and I sense it also in your thoughts, where are Eragon and Saphira?_

Arya choked and her eyes grew wet and she looked down at the dragon who looked back at her kindly with wisdom beyond his years.

_They…they are trapped, in Urû'baen. Murtagh and Thorn beat them in their last match. We are doing everything we can to get them back, we have sent people to the capital and we are receiving reports, and none of them look promising at the moment._

Glaedr's thoughts flashed and red hot anger bubbled in him. Memories came pouring out of him and his thoughts quaked.

_Oromis. No, this is bad. Eragon and Saphira were the only hope of the Varden. Oromis. Oromis._

_Glaedr? _Arya asked slowly.

_They were our only hope, all of the training and everything that we have strived for, lost and in that black city. I know what happens in there, but with Galbatorix. I was lucky to be with Kialandí and Formora, Eragon and Saphira are in true peril, with Galbatorix._

_What will happen to them?! _Arya cried. _I need to know!_

_Hush, I do not know what will happen to them. However I can say this: Saphira is the last; the very last hope of restoring the dragon race. She is the last female dragon, and I know for a fact that Galbatorix wishes to restore the Riders so that they will be loyal to him and him only. __So my guess would be that he would be trying to guess Eragon and Saphira's true names and make them part of a new generation of Forsworn._

Arya shuddered. She could not bear it if Eragon would be sunk to that level, a cold hearted and violent person trapped in the service of Galbatorix.

_This will happen at some point if Eragon and Saphira cannot escape from Urû'baen, Galbatorix will be keeping a very close eye on the pair of them whist trying to guess their names._

_I must give this information to Nasuada. The Varden will want any information which may help us get back Eragon and Saphira._

Glaedr rumbled in agreement.

_I trust that Nasuada knows about the Eldunarí?_

_Yes, she does._

_Then do this, we need to do anything to win Saphira and Eragon back over._

Arya nodded and wiped her eyes.

_Thank you, Glaedr-elda._

The dragon sneezed and a puff of smoke escaped his nostrils and Glaedr's attention was turned towards the dragon in her lap_._

_It was Eragon who was last in this position and now it is you, Arya. You are the hope for the people. This brings me to my first reason for contacting you. Since you told me of this tragedy that has befallen Eragon and Saphira; I have searched high and low for them, and yet I could not find them, so I came back to you. You must arrange the training of the both of you on your first steps to becoming a dragon and Rider. Now I understand why_

Arya stomach dropped and the dragon froze, as if he too could understand Glaedr's words.

_Glaedr-elda? _Arya asked, astonished and trembling.

_Will you train under me and through me, Oromis? _Glaedr asked patiently.

_I will gladly train under your guidance, Glaedr-elda._

Glaedr chuckled again and said firmly but kindly:_ Since you are my student, you will address me as master or ebrithil._

_Of course, master, _Arya said.

_Please could you get me? I'm in Eragon's belongings, in Saphira's spare saddlebags and it was a miracle that no-one spotted me as well, _said Glaedr._ I need to speak to Nasuada about what I know of Urû'baen, any information which can help us get those two back will be very helpful indeed._

_Of course, master._

Arya found it strange to be calling Glaedr her 'master' when, for all of her life; she had simply referred to him as Glaedr-elda. She slunk around the guards who had stationed themselves outside her tent and went over to the supply wagons where spare tents, extra belongs and extra supplies, such as blankets had been stored. Arya was guided by Glaedr's thoughts and she jumped atop one of the wagons and heaved off one of the many tents, panting with the effort and she uncovered the blue canvas of Eragon's tent. Her eyes grew wet and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand before continuing, looking for Saphira's saddle, and after finding it, opened one of the many spare saddle bags and beheld a bundle wrapped in cloth. Arya licked her lips and pulled it out, quickly peaking at it and a dull golden glow came from it.

_Good. _said Glaedr._ Now, I need to speak to Nasuada._

_Yes master, I just need to get my dragon._

_Have you given him a name yet?_

Arya blushed and Glaedr could see the answer plain in her mind.

_You need to think of giving him one as well._

_He only hatched yesterday!_

_The ideal time for a dragon to be named is in the first couple of weeks of hatching. _

_Eragon named Saphira a month after she hatched._

_Those are rare cases and would you of liked to have been called 'The elf' after you were born?_

Arya flushed once again and hurried through camp; it was mid morning so she had to be careful that people didn't look to closely at what she was holding in her hands although every once in a while, she did receive a curious glance and she hurried onwards. After returning to her tent and asking Blödhgarm to place a spell of invisibility on the dragon, she made her way through the camp at a brisk walk towards Nasuada's pavilion and the guards squinted at her, suspicious and an Urgal called: 'Arya Shadeslayer here to see you milady!'

As Arya stepped forwards, one of the dwarf guards blocked her and held up his hand.

'We need to see what is in the bundle in your hands, Arya.' He said in a gruff voice and Arya drew Glaedr closer to her.

'I'm sorry, but you cannot see what is in here.'

'I need to see, I'm sorry but we cannot let any unknown objects into the lady's pavilion.'

'I shall not let you see what I hold in my arms,' she said firmly but one of the other guards spoke up.

'Come on, Morin! It's probably the egg in those cloths, let her in, there's no harm in an egg and why would she want to attack Nasuada?' The other dwarf called and the one called Morin scowled, and then called something back in dwarfish to which the other replied angrily.

'If I get so much as a gasp, I'll be in there as fast as I can,' he vowed and uneasily let her past.

_Dwarves! Tsk! _Arya thought. She strode into the pavilion and the spell on the dragon eased off so he shimmered into view once more and he shivered. He didn't like being look-through-see-others as he put it and Nasuada arched an eyebrow at the blanket covered Eldunarí.

'Yes, Arya?' Nasuada asked.

'I have come to see you, and not alone do I come, but someone you have met before comes also.'

'You have me interested, who would this be?'

_It is I, Glaedr._ He projected his thoughts to Nasuada, Arya and the dragon who was happily pouncing on Arya boot lacings. Nasuada jumped and recognition crossed her face.

_Glaedr, it is wonderful that we meet once again now, even though I have never spoken to you._

_Thank you, Nasuada, it is an honour to meet you also, the elves talk about the feats of the Varden under your command quite a lot, you shall never be forgotten._

Nasuada smiled at that and came down towards Arya, Glaedr and the dragon.

_It is good to see you once again, what owes me the pleasure of this talking?_

_I have only heard what has happened to Eragon and Saphira, how long ago was this?_

Nasuada grimaced before replying.

_Coming up four weeks ago._

If Glaedr still had his body, Arya knew he would of been snarling and the dragon lost interest in her boot lacings and clambered up onto the table and fluttered on to his perch on Arya's shoulder, his eyes full of fear at the elder dragon's anger.

_This is not good, but this is not the only reason I have come out of my mourning, Nasuada. Arya and the infant need to be trained and since Eragon is unavailable to do this training, then Arya and the infant will have to undergo my instruction until we get Eragon and Saphira back._

Nasuada listened and said afterwards: _There is something else you wish to share as well, isn't there?_

Glaedr chuckled and his Eldunarí flared.

_You indeed are sharp witted and aware of the situations around you, Nasuada Clear-mind. Yes, and the information I wish to share with you is about Urû'baen._

Nasuada stiffened and she leaned forwards eagerly, her hands on the back of one of the many chairs surrounding the oaken table and she was trembling with excitement.

_Any information about a way to extract Eragon and Saphira from Urû'baen is much cherished._

_Very well then, I shall tell you what I know. As you know, Urû'baen was once an elven city under the name of Ilirea, Oromis and I, before the fall of the Riders, taught many new ones either in Ilirea or on Vroengard in Doru Arabea. Because of Ilirea's new name of Urû'baen, part of it is of elven design, the walls, houses and streets we made of stone, mostly either sandstone or limestone and strengthened with magic, easy to access from the area and made strong with our spells. The palace where the King resides however, I cannot tell you much about since Galbatorix rebuilt that section of the city to his liking. But when Oromis and I were captives there under Kialandí and Formora, I learned some things about the palace._

Nasuada was drinking all of the information in and was eager for more every time and her knuckles were white.

_Please continue, Glaedr, _she said after a while of silence.

_Be patient, Nasuada and now I need your permission, for it would be easier for you and me, if I show you what it was like through my eyes from this point onwards, starting in the golden days of the Riders and continuing on until Oromis and I were captives in the black capital._

_Of course_, said Nasuada and Arya together and Arya closed her eyes, the scents becoming stronger and her hearing even sharper as she saw the world through Glaedr's eyes.

_Laughter, Glaedr heard the two-legs-pointed-ears-elves laughing in the streets, singing and talking in the language-of-power-which-form-word-will-energy and he glanced down at his partner by his left leg. It felt wonderful to have four legs once again although this was the last thing on his mind now since he was oblivious of what was to come. A human child ran out of one of the sandstone houses and stopped, gazing up at Glaedr and towards Oromis who in turn, looked back at the child with kind eyes. She turned to follow her mother and Glaedr rumbled, shaking his head and neck, yawning and he extended his claws and they hooked in the cobbles on the stone-pathway-for walking. _

_He gazed around and Glaedr slowed down the memory here so Nasuada and Arya could see the details of the elven part of the city. Ilirea towered upwards towards the stars with the single story stone-cut-caves nearer to the wall, the two story houses in the centre and the three story houses ringing the central courtyard of the city. A palace of white marble sparkled in the very centre of the city, covered in vines, windows and full of light. That was how it used to be._

_The next memory was of Glaedr flying above the city with Oromis on his back, now showing it at a bird's eye view and Nasuada studied the way the building were laid out and the noise of Glaedr's-delicate-flight-wings filled this memory now. The tiny forms of elves and humans dotted the city below and the occasional sparkle of colour from a dragon was interspersed throughout the city._

_This is the last memory about what I'll show you about Ilirea, the next is what Urû'baen was like for Oromis and I._ Glaedr's voice was so unexpected that Arya jumped and Nasuada let out a little gasp, her eyes tight shut.

Arya once more ventured into Glaedr's memories and shuddered at what she saw.

_Laughter was once again present, but this laughter was cruel and devoid of kindness and Glaedr couldn't move, he couldn't budge around to check on how the partner-for-life-Oromis was going. His left leg was full of fire and Glaedr felt the familiar feeling that he had felt over the past one hundred years. He had been crippled by the two-traitor-Rider-elves Kialandí and Formora. An elf with bright silver hair jumped up beside his head and for a second, Glaedr hoped it was Oromis, but the smell was obviously female. A maroon dragon was sulking along beside her and it had a missing eye and its teeth were bloody._

_'How are our two guests shaping up, Formora?' a voice asked and Formora laughed, high and sweet but Glaedr could detect an edge of madness in the laugh._

_'How are you going, Oromis, Glaedr?' she sneered, prodding Glaedr's stump and he howled as fire shot up his mutilated leg and he writhed and Glaedr could hear Oromis cry out in pain._

Oromis! _Glaedr called and he tried desperately to find Oromis, but he couldn't touch his mind, where was he?_

Shaping up alright?_ the maroon dragon sneered, her single eye glittering._ You shall pay, Glaedr. For...' _She seemed to choke on her own tongue and Glaedr snarled._

This is one of the many prices to be paid; you cannot even call yourself a dragon. _She howled and swiped at Glaedr and he roared as she slashed at his muzzle, opening up new wounds and they dripped blood. Glaedr snarled from the pain._

Du Namar Auroboda shall not go unpunished, _she vowed._

_The black city was ahead of them and Glaedr struggled and the dragon smirked. Dark clouds hung over it and it shot upwards into the skies, the palace dominating the top and Glaedr could hear the screech of gore crows in the distance._

_Blood seeped under his scales, making his skin itch and burn and he grimaced in discomfort, but this was little compared to the wound that had been inflicted on his leg. He thrashed his tail and whined, wanting to see Oromis, to assure himself that his Rider was safe and not in pain._

Welcome home, _the maroon dragon crowed. The white marble palace was gone, and in its place, a one of black had been erected and part of the city burned. The dragon hissed and Formora looked around and a shout from somewhere off to Glaedr's left told him that Kialandí was close by. There was a rumble of thunder and another dragon roared, this one sky blue and Glaedr hissed._

_The sandstone and limestone houses were still standing and Glaedr saw dragons fighting overhead, tumbling and twisting in the air, fighting and there was the occasional flash of word-will-energy-magic._

_'Go, Kialandí. Go and eradicate that Rider scum!' Formora cried and Glaedr saw out of the corner of his eye traitor-elf-Kialandí bound onto her dragon and they both launched into the air, joining the fight between the Forsworn and the free Riders. Once again, Glaedr howled._

Arya opened her eyes and blinked several times. Nasuada shivered and shook her head, sweat beading her brow and she looked fearfully at Arya.

'We cannot let that happen to Eragon.'

'No, we need him, badly.'


	30. Chapter 30 -- By the Roadside

30

**By the Roadside**

_But they saw the Ranger was nowhere near the flames and they came on - straight into the hail of arrows that Halt met them with. _

**_– Ranger's Apprentice: The Ruins of Gorlan: John Flanagan_**

A hooded figure notched an arrow into his bow and took aim carefully, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes. Rain drops dripped off the rim of his hood and he could soon hear the jangling of reins and the clopping of horse's hooves. The man looked quickly towards one of his companions, also hooded in a brown cloak and he raised his hand, his eyes glittering and the man could see four others, also with arrows trained on the road, giving the signal to hold.

This man's name was Robert and flexed his fingers and listened carefully, the sound of pattering rain was everywhere and as he listened, he heard men's voices arguing and he watched as they came into view.

He glanced towards the leader again and his hand was still raised and he mouthed two words: _'Hold fire.'_

Robert's arm was trembling and he saw six men coming around the bend in the road. They were of the Empire and they wore the standard dress of chainmail, a helmet and basic armour. This was all topped with a red tunic which a tongue of flames had been stitched on. Each had a sword on his hip and the lead man held a flag which fluttered in the cold morning air. Their voices floated towards Robert and he listened, interested although his concentration did not waver.

'I told ya! I think that the King should pull us out of this…stupid, little country. If he wants to eradicate the resistance, then he and that Rider of his should just fly over that stupid little camp of theirs and just get those still ugly beasts to just torch the whole thing!'

'Then I think that you should present your wonderful idea to the King himself, Nix. I'm sure that he would just love to hear your idea!'

There were sniggers from the other soldiers and the man who was speaking, Nix, who was directly behind the man with the flag urged his horse forwards and Robert cursed, he was getting in the way of his target! He shifted his position, snapping a few twigs and the man next to him hissed under his breath, 'Careful, Robert!'

One of the hooded men on the opposite side of the road flashed his eyes towards them giving one clear message: _Be quiet._ One of the soldiers down on the road stopped his mare for she had suddenly pricked her ears and she nickered nervously.

'Whoa, girl,' the soldier murmured, stroking the bay's neck and she calmed down slightly and Nix turned around in the saddle to look at his companion.

'What's up? What the 'orse picked up?'

'Dunno, sir. She's restless which must mean something's up, it must be. She saved us from those stupid Nomads a couple of months ago. I trust her senses completely.'

The lead soldier heard this and he stopped his stallion and glance curiously back at the others who had now stopped in the middle of the road.

'What is it you two? You know that we are on a tight schedule and we have to be back at camp by curfew.'

The soldier shifted on the saddle and his hand crept towards the hilt of his sword and the hooded man besides Robert tensed and his eyes darted towards the lead man who still had his hand raised.

_Come on!_ Robert thought and he was trembling with impatience, his arm was sore for holding back the bow string for so long and his muscles were sore as well, especially those in his arms and legs. There was rain in his eyes and he could barely see.

'Everyone dismount! We need to see if anyone actually _is_ in the area.' There were splashes as the soldiers dismounted and four of them drew their swords, the steel glinting as the rain hit the exposed blades. They stepped away from the horses and the other two withdrew bows from their saddlebags and notched in arrows of their own and aimed at the surrounding bush and cover, squinting and occasionally wiping the rain from their eyes.

The man in the brown cloak finally and swiftly, dropped his hand and Robert released the arrow and four other arrows came out of the undergrowth and they each embedded themselves in five of the men's chests, from both archers and three of the swords men. They cried out and they fell to the floor, dead and the rest of the men leapt out and the lead man, who had drawn two twin knives and had jumped upon the last man and pressed the knife in his right hand at the man's throat.

'Let me go, you yellow-bellied bastards!' the soldier who had been riding the mare yelled but the man press the knife against his throat harder, drawing a line of blood and the soldier winced slightly as the steel cut his flesh.

'Where is this camp of yours?' the man asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

'And why would I tell you, Varden scum?' the soldier spat and he struggled even more and Robert quickly drew another arrow, this one trained at the soldier's heart. The man chuckled softly.

'How about you either tell us where it is or we force the information out of you, a quick and painless death, or a slow and painful one, choose.'

The soldier's eyes burned with hate and anger and he spat in the mud by the man's feet.

'I shall not tell you as long as there is a breath in my body, I shall never betray my King.'

'You think he is a fair King?' Robert laughed. He had heard of people who thought that the King was a good ruler and hadn't really believed it, but now, here was someone who thought of the King as a saviour.

'Thank you for opinion, Robert, now, where is the camp?'

'I will not tell you!'

The man turned around to look at another person hidden under a grey hood. He stepped forwards towards the soldier and he struggled even more.

'If you would please, Darl. Examine his memories,' the man instructed.

Robert didn't know much about magic and how it worked. The family that he had come from lived near Bullridge and all of them hated magic, thanks to Galbatorix. His whole family hated the King and his older brother, Ari, had been dragged away on his sixteenth birthday to Gil'ead to train for the King's armies. When news of his death reached Robert's family, they had fled to the Varden, determined that justice be served out for taking away a member of their family.

Upon thinking of Ari, Robert fingered a small amulet that Ari had given him for his thirteenth birthday. Robert watched the magician that was accompanying them to the capital, Darl, step forwards and remove his light grey hood, looking into the soldier's eyes. Darl stared calmly at the soldier, who had began to struggle again and closed his eyes, a small frown on his face.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then the soldier shut his eyes too, tightly and Darl's frown became more pronounced and the soldier began to tremble. Robert averted his gaze to the lead man's face, he had stepped back now, his knives still drawn and he was looking unblinkingly at the soldier's face. He had begun to sweat and had sank to his knees, his hand clenching and unclenching as Darl continued the siege on his mind.

'I didn't bargain for this,' Robert heard the man mutter. 'He has been trained.'

'Shall I watch the road, sir?' Robert asked slowly but the man didn't reply and he raised his voice slightly. 'Fembor, sir? Shall I watch the road?'

Fembor turned his eyes to Robert who gripped his bow tighter, the man's grey eyes bored into him.

'If you wish, then I have no quarrel with you.'

Robert bowed slightly and trotted up the road, his arrow raised and he now looked at the surrounding bush. He wiped the rain away from his eyes and he put his boot down in a puddle with a splash and he cursed, not because it was noisy, the soldier's cries would of alerted anyone in the area, he just hated have water in his boots. But he felt no different; his shoes were so water logged already. He hated the squishing it made but he had been living with this for the past three days.

The road that Robert was on crossed the Surdan border and was mostly used by the locals of the area and the Empire when they crossed over the border into Surda. This was one of the tucked away roads and the men that Robert was with had been camping on the side of this road for the past week and a half, waiting for a patrol of six or more soldiers to come along the road. It had been Darl who had spotted the six soldiers today and two of the others in their party had barely enough time to scramble up the opposite bank on the road and ready their bows.

They hadn't dared to tackle groups with three or four soldiers, which was the average number coming past, but if small groups had kept disappearing, Fembor had argued, the Empire would look in the area and maybe find out of their staying there. Robert saw sense in that argument and he had readily agreed to Fembor's reasoning. But people who had disagreed and wanted to kill any soldier that came past had to be persuaded and that took much of the first day up.

Robert, for one, was glad that they finally had caught a group of soldiers and six at that, for then he could finally have a hot meal, he had been living off bread, cold meat, water and a little ale for the past week and a half. Every time he heard horse's hooves, he looked up to be disappointed yet again only to see three or four of the Empire's soldiers parading past.

Robert went around the bend in the road and stood there, bow draw and scanning the road ahead of him. The rest of the group was about two hundred metres away and he waited for a few minutes, until he heard someone coming up behind him. He spun around and was about to release the arrow when he saw it was only his friend, Owar.

'Robert! Let there be peace!' he raised his hands in mock surrender but quickly put them down again. 'Darl has broken into the soldier's mind and Fembor wants you up there.'

Robert nodded and the two of them jogged back to the ambush site.

'Fembor, sir!' Owar shouted and Fembor looked up, acknowledging them with a nodded and he waved them over and the two of them walked over.

The soldier was now on the ground, moaning and rocking back and forth and Darl stood tall, his eyes flickering under the lids and the arrival of Robert and Owar seemed to stir him and he opened his eyes.

'What did you find?' Fembor asked, his expression hungry.

'I found,' Darl began, his voice hoarse and heavy with weariness and he blinked several times before continuing. 'Their camp is about five leagues to the North, so up the road which we are on, and that they are to be expected back at camp in four days. His companion's names were Nix, as we heard Solin, Lewin, Thorbriy, Vamyr and this chap's name is Gorvas. They are a standard scouting party and, as you have probably guessed from their armour, mounted footmen. Another piece of information I have gathered is that all soldiers are receiving a basic education in protecting their minds.'

Fembor swore under his breath and spat on the ground. The soldier stirred and before Robert could think what they should do, Fembor stepped forwards and with one swift movement, cut the soldier's throat and one last breath escaped his body with a hiss. Owar spat on the body and everyone turned their eyes to Fembor. They all knew the plan and they stepped among the bodies.

'You know what to do. This is a safe way to gain access to Urû'baen without being detected.'

Robert heard a small uncertainty in Fembor's voice but he ignored it and prowled among the bodies and chose one of the archers and stripped him of his armour, donning the chainmail which fell to his knees, he then put on the red cloth which draped over his shoulders and also ended at his knees. He then buckled on a leather belt around his waist and pulled on the bracers and greaves. He then dragged the body over to the side of the road and dumped it in the underbrush and the others followed suit. The rest of the band was now also in the Empire's colours and the spent the next few minutes reigning in the horses and Robert jumped onto the mare.

She shivered and whinnied slightly and Robert ran a smooth hand down her neck and she calmed slightly. She shifted her stance and Robert looked up to see Fembor on the lead man's stallion and he laid back his ears.

'Easy, boy,' Fembor murmured and held his hand out flat and let the horse sniff it. He whinnied and stood still and Fembor mounted him, dressed in the lead man's armour. He turned towards Darl and said, 'Who is who? We need to go under false names now, for that of our safety.'

'The lead man was Vamyr, Robert can be Solin, Owar can be Lewin, Harwin can be Thorbriy, Alrad can be Gorvas and I will be Nix.'

'Fine, let us ride out, and we can be slow because the soldiers aren't expected back at camp for a few days, and don't get killed by allies!'

The men laughed at that and Robert smiled, although his heart was in his throat. Here he was, marching into enemy territory in enemy colours, but he would do this, for the Rider and dragon in the dark citadel. He glanced over at Harwin and he held the reigns tightly. They all knew what had happened to him a few months ago on the Burning Plains and he had been especially eager to come on this mission, to repay Eragon back for his kindness.

'Let's go, this place is making me feel uneasy,' Fembor shivered, turning his horse around.


	31. Chapter 31 -- To Watch Those

31

**To Watch Those Whom You Care About Die**

_'Oh, Hazel! This is where it comes from! I know now – something very bad! Some terrible thing – coming closer and closer.'_

_He began to whimper in fear._

_'What sort of thing – what do you mean? I thought you said there was no danger?'_

_'I don't know what it is,' answered Fiver wretchedly. 'There isn't any danger here, at this moment. But it's coming – it's coming. Oh, Hazel, look! The field! It's covered with blood!'_

**_– Watership Down: Richard Adams_**

Robert blinked and opened his eyes. The rain had stopped the previous day and that had been a blessing to Robert, since it had been raining for the past three days straight. He crossed his arms and rolled over, his sandy hair falling in his eyes and he blew it away and he squirmed some more, the chainmail being uncomfortable pressed into his shoulder.

Alrad was mumbling in his sleep, he kept rolling over, constantly crossing and uncrossing his arms and he snorted in his sleep, lost in his dream. The horses were grazing near the edge of the campsite and Robert's mare, which he had called Alyth after his mother, raised her eyes to him and nicked softly and he got up, walking over to her. Robert rubbed in between Alyth's ears and she nudged his hand, looking for food and he smiled at her.

'Easy, girl,' he murmured and she snorted, waking Alrad out of his dream.

'They're on me!' he cried, bolting upright and Robert jumped, startled.

'Alrad! What in the blazes are you on about?' asked Robert.

Alrad blinked and looked at Robert.

'Nothin'. Just a bad dream,' Alrad muttered, rubbing his head and frowning. Robert turned back to Alyth, but Alrad started to talk.

'We had him. Shadeslayer that is, and Brightscales. We was in Urû'baen and there was the sound of arrows, hundreds of them, coming towards us. You were there, and you had been wounded on your leg and you was running, running, shouting and crying, telling us to run. And then…' Alrad was shaking once more. Robert stood next to Alyth, absentmindedly stroking her neck and listening, hard to Alrad.

He continued.

'They…there was an arrow, in Owar, and he fell and you cried out,' Alrad whispered hoarsely, rocking back and forth slowly, his hands wrapped around his knees, 'Shadeslayer. He turned and when 'e saw Owar laying there, his eyes vacant, he cried out, "He was a good and honest man! Whose arrow this is, I know not, but this shall not go unpunished!"

'Darl was muttering in his strange tongue and I saw soldiers of the Empire fall, from what seemed like nothing, and I assumed that it was Darl's magic which did this. It had a devastating effect on the Empire, but Darl was getting weaker by the second. I won't pretend to know how magic works, but I guess that it was Darl's strength that was the price for his magic, an exchange, if you will. I heard laughter, deep cold and devoid of emotion and the sound of it chilled my blood.

'I saw Fembor turn around at the sound of this and Saphira's roars faltered somewhat.

'"Fly! You must fly, Shadeslayer, Brightscales!" Fembor shouted, his sword bloody and his eyes full of fear. Bloody fangs were swiping left and right and Brightscales' roar defended my ears and it took all of my will power to continue fighting. Argetlam looked towards Fembor and he climbed up onto Saphira and his eyes were full of sorrow. I heard his voice, inside my head, even though his lips didn't move.

'"_You shall never be forgotten,_" the voice said and Brightscales flew, jumped into the night air which was thick with arrows, screams, the twangs of bow strings and the sound of metal on metal. She flew, hard and fast and the laughter increase in volume. I heard a cry from next to me and I saw Darl fall, his body looked unblemished and I saw no wounds on his body, but I knew he was dead, but I didn't know what had killed him.

'Eragon held his sword upright, the blade shining in the moonlight and Saphira had a snarl carved on her face and she was flying fast, as fast as she could go, but then I saw a black shadow rise in front of the moon, wings unfurling and a deep roar followed and Saphira swerved, and I heard him, Robert. His voice was louder than thunder, cold and demanding.

'"You cannot escape me, Eragon, Saphira,' the voice said and Saphira roared, "I have been in your mind, walked among your memories. And I have discovered much, and what was now hidden to me is nearly clear. For long I have sat and thought, and I have found my answer."

'I heard Eragon shout, "Saphira! Get away from him!" She tried to swoop around but the world seemed to slow, to come to a standstill, as if time had slowed down and I felt as if I was moving through honey, my limbs were stiff and my muscles frozen. Saphira had stopped completely and I felt my heart stop and close with dread. I heard the voice chuckle, and then continue its speech.

'"Many have fought and died for you, and I will tell you whom they fought for: a false hope, a hope so small that the flame that once was is now a dying spark, and I will soon extinguish that small ember from the world."

'"You lie!" I bellowed but the voice laughed again, cold and emotionless.

'"I do not lie, Alrad Verconsson. I never lie, and I will show you now that my words are true."

'I then heard him say something, something in a language I could not understand and I shivered, recognising it as the language that Darl spoke in when performing magic and there was silence for a few moments, and then I heard a howl, filled with loss and sorrow, coupled with a roar.'

Alrad was shaking and he licked his lips again, sweat beaded his brow and Robert was staring at Alrad.

'Is there anymore?' he asked in a whisper, stroking Alyth's neck and Alrad nodded.

'There is, but I would rather not share that with anyone,' he replied, his voice was stony and cold. Robert nodded.

'I understand.'

'Do you!' Alrad shouted, leaping to his feet and waking everyone in the campsite. Alyth snorted and laid her ears back at the volume of Alrad's voice. 'Am I cursed?! To be able to know what is yet to come and I have to watch in silence as my friends die and watch it yet again in the future, without being able to wake up the next time? I doubt you know what it is like, you are barely of age and here you are, telling me you "understand".'

Alrad glared down at Robert and he quavered as the older man shouted at him. Robert's face was white and Alrad looked him up and down before trudging off to his saddlebags and opening them roughly, grumbling about boys being able to fight where men should be, and about Robert. Alrad's words had stung Robert and he balled his fists and stared hard at Alrad's back, but there was truth in the man's words. Robert had turned seventeen only four months ago and Alrad ad been grudging to let him along on this mission and he argued forcefully with Fembor. Fembor had stood his ground and explained how useful Robert was. Robert had over heard all of this and he had been silent. When Alrad had called him over this morning, he had been expecting harsh words, but he had been completely shocked when Alrad had been talking about his dream; it had almost been a relief when he had started shouting at Robert afterwards.

Robert walked over to where he had slept and squatted down, rummaging in the saddlebags for a loaf of sourdough bread and his waterskin, which to his dismay needed refilling. There was no available water source nearby so he made a mental note to himself to refill it when he first got the chance. Robert finished off the water and tore the loaf in half, tearing into it and wolfing it down.

'Someone's hungry,' Owar noted as he walked by, a saddle in his hands. Robert smiled as he continued to eat his bread. Questions swum around his head he and he burned to have them answered. What was Alrad's dream about and what did it signify? Was this going to happen in the future? What was Alrad refusing to share? And what had happened to Eragon and Saphira after they had flown off?

Robert was certain that the voice, the cold, emotionless voice that had constantly laughed throughout the dream, belonged to the King, and that howl…Robert didn't know anything about the nature of the howl, how had Alrad put it?

_'…and then I heard a howl, filled with loss and sorrow, coupled with a roar.' _

Robert was sure that the howl and the roar had belonged to the dragon and Rider, but here he was confused. If something had happened to them, why was the howl devoid of pain? Why had it been loss and sorrow that had echoed through the night?

These questions spun around Robert's head and he longed to ask Alrad about them, but he knew what to expect from the soldier, a harsh, snapping response was all he'd get out of him. He sat there, pondering Alrad's words and chewing on his bread thoughtfully as the others cleared up the campsite.

'We still have a bit to travel,' Fembor called out whist he was repacking his saddlebags and there was a collective groan from both Owar and Harwin. Robert grimaced and prepared himself for another long and uncomfortable day in the saddle, bumping up and down in time with the Alyth's stride. Robert lifted up Alyth's saddle, grunting at the weight and he placed it on her back, passing the straps under her belly and tightening them with sharp pulls on the leather and Alyth snorted.

After he had done everything necessary, he mounted the mare and turned her around and urged her into a gentle trot following Fembor and Darl. He fastened his helmet on his head and he overheard the leader and magician talking to eachother quietly. The sound of the horses hooves were muffled by the leaves that littered the ground, each was waterlogged and each one of them stank.

'How far would you say until we reach the Empire's camp, Darl?' Fembor murmured to Darl.

'By late tonight, if we keep at this speed,' Darl replied and Fembor grunted in reply. Robert slowed Alyth down so she now walked along side Owar, Harwin and Alrad, who gave Robert a scowl before returning to the conversation the three of them had been having before.

'And when I released my arrow and I saw the dragon swerve to avoid them, I saw the sunlight glinting off its scales and I stopped dead when I realised that those scales were sapphire blue. The other archers who were next to me each wore an expression of horror. I watched as the dragon swerved around the arrows and I heard shouting behind me. I turned and I saw Fredrick striding towards me and my fellow archers, his expression one of thunder and in his eyes, a spark of fury had ignited.'

Owar looked up to see Robert alongside him and his friend grinned.

'Glad you could join us mate,' he said.

'Too late to join in the conversation?' Robert asked and Harwin shook his head.

'Just telling everyone for the somethingth time about what happened on the Burning Plains when Shadeslayer and Brightscales returned from that strange forest up north.'

'Please continue,' Robert said and Harwin picked up on his tale again.

'We were escorted to a tent and we were each told to relieve ourselves of our armour and weapons and that we were to each receive a whipping for what we had done. And, well, as you can imagine, I wasn't looking forward to it and I heard a heavy thud in the distance and I knew that Shadeslayer had landed. After a few minutes, the tent flap brushed aside and I saw him, all pale and with tapped ears and I sucked in my breath. He held an arrow in his hand and he started to speak and I listened in awe as he spoke. I had heard him speak before and this was not the voice that I remembered. It was lighter and more beautiful and he started to pace along the line and when he got to me, he held out the arrow in his hand and he said, "I believe that this is yours, Harwin."

'I was amazed and I took the arrow back and saw the white band on the shaft and I wondered how he had known my name. I shall never forget that, and he made sure that we wouldn't be punished, and we were to act like that in a similar situation.

'I came along on the trip because Shadeslayer did me a huge favour, and I need to return his kindness.'

'The End,' Alrad muttered and Robert laughed.

'Nice story and I can see where you are coming from, needing to repay Shadeslayer. I need to repay the Empire because they took away my brother, Ari, and because of the Empire, he is now dead and justice must be served,' Robert said bitterly and Owar clapped him on the back.

'And justice shall be served out,' he said.

The rest of the day, they told each other of stories about their past and when the sun was low on the horizon; Robert could make out a camp sprawled out on the plain which they had been crossing.

'The Empire's camp,' Owar muttered and Robert felt a familiar anger rise within him. It was time to join the enemy ranks.


	32. Chapter 32 -- Among the Enemy

32

**Among the Enemy**

_It didn't take long to change their appearance. Their clan-tattoos weren't a problem, as their cheeks were still so blistered from the snowstorm that the fine marks hardly showed._

**_- Soul Eater: Michelle Paver_**

The gates and walls were made of wood and the horses walked along a makeshift drawbridge and when Robert looked down, he saw rows upon rows of wooden stakes that had been driven into the ground, facing away from the camp. Alyth stopped before a set of twenty foot high double doors made of pine and Robert heard a voice.

'Who goes there? Name yourselves!' the voice demanded.

Fembor looked towards Darl out of the corner of his eye and he nodded, it was a small movement and Fembor turned back towards the towering gates.

'Captain Vamyr and my company have returned from a scouting mission. We request entrance into the camp,' Fembor shouted.

There was silence, then: 'How do I know that you ain't Varden scum, eeh?'

'Vér eru sannr eda hollr firar!' Darl roared and there was a pause and Robert could here muttering from the ramparts. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, fidgeting and Owar drummed his fingers on his horse's neck and sweat beaded his brow. Only Fembor and Darl looked calm and Robert thought that he saw a touch of panic in Fembor's eyes.

'Say that again,' the voice said, suspicious.

'Vér eru sannr eda hollr firar,' Darl repeated. A few seconds past and there was different voice who spoke now: 'Enter, Vamyr. You know the rules, break them and there will be a punishment.'

The great gates groaned open and Alyth snorted and Owar's face tightened and Harwin looked determined, a fierce light glinting in his eyes.

'For Shadeslayer,' he said under his breath.

'Aye,' Robert said and he urged Alyth forwards.

Fembor urged his horse, Lemnos, towards Darl who walked slightly in front.

'What did you say in that tongue of yours?' Fembor hissed. 'I don't want us to have sworn ourselves to the King at this stage now. What did you say, Darl?'

Darl looked coolly back at Fembor before replying, 'I told him this, Fembor. I told him that we are true and loyal men.'

'What?! You trai-'

'Understand this, Fembor sir. I trust you know that I cannot lie in that language, so I said that we were loyal, but not to whom we owe our loyalties to. The idiot who translated thought that we meant the King but I myself meant we were loyal men to the Varden. He just took in that we were loyal men who would not disobey their lord.'

Fembor looked astonished.

'I would kiss ya, but it would look suspicious,' he said in a joking voice and Darl grinned, delighted with himself and Robert had new hopes, maybe this plan would go without any hold ups, it was going smoothly so far and Robert hoped that it would continue to go smoothly.

Unlike the Varden, the Empire's camp was grim, dirty and there were no women or children. There was a serious air about it. Robert could hear a march going on somewhere off to their left and that was the only noises throughout the camp apart from the sounds of the animals.

'This is unnatural,' said Alrad.

'Aye,' Harwin agreed.

'Shall we just pray that we don't have to stay for long?' Robert asked and Owar snorted.

'I would and I am.'

'We can't stay around here all day. Darl, do you know where the horses go?'

Darl closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then opened them.

'Follow me,' he said, urging his horse forwards and Robert followed on Alyth. The mare was snorting and chomping on her bit and was even more skittish than usual.

'This place is unnatural,' Robert murmured to her, echoing what Alrad had said and the horse nickered in reply.

'Easy, girl,' he murmured to her, stroking her neck, still following Darl towards the horse lines.

They came to a clearing between the tents and Robert saw hundreds upon hundreds of horses, all picketed in rows, tens deep and a couple of soldiers came out to meet them.

'Evening boys. Names?' one of them asked.

'Vamyr, Solin, Lewin, Thorbriy, Gorvas and Nix,' Fembor replied coolly and the soldier nodded, producing a clipboard and he scanned down the list quickly.

'Hmm… Riding horses two hundred and twenty three to nine?' he said and Fembor, startled, nodded. 'You can hand them to the grooms and then get your asses out of here.' The soldier hollered the last words and the band quickly dismounted and handed their horses to the six grooms that came running up to them. Robert didn't want to leave Alyth and she tried to pull back to him but the groom yanked on her bridle and lead the mare away.

'Come on, Robert,' Owar muttered and reached downwards towards his pockets as he did whenever he was stroppy, but his armour had no pockets so his hands slid down his legs until they hung at his sides. Owar only then seemed to realise that he had no pockets, shrugged and Robert, who was smiling now, walked after him.

'They give the horse's numbers and not names?'

'Looks like it,' Owar said.

'Hope we don't have to stay for long,' said Robert, shuddering as he looked around the eerie camp. He heard a dog barking in the distance and he was grateful for that sound, a sound which seemed to him, to be normal to hear in a camp of this size. The silence from the soldiers pressed down all around him and he wished, not for the first time, that he was back at the Varden, that Fembor hadn't chosen him for this mission and someone else. He was scared, Robert would never admit that to anyone but he was truly terrified.

_What am I doing here?_

He wanted the whole thing to be over with, all he wanted was to get Shadeslayer back, overthrow the Empire and settle down and have a family, to forget about this war and to lay down his weapons and take up farming tools once more.

Robert could still here the marching in the distance and the sounds of pounding feet.

'Are we supposed to go over there?' Fembor asked Darl but before the magician could reply, a soldier walked between two of the tents, walking the opposite direction to the sounds of the marching and Fembor rushed forwards and caught him by the arm.

'What?' the soldier started to say, trying to shrug off Fembor's hand but Fembor said to him before he could continue, 'Who is that marching over there?'

The soldier snorted and sized him up.

'Back from a mission now, are we?' he asked.

'Yes,' Fembor replied irritably, 'Who is over there?'

'New recruits,' the soldier said after a while.

'Thank you,' Fembor said quietly and he released his grip and the soldier waked off, muttering to himself about retards and the such. Robert heard him say, 'Idiot,' before disappearing.

'Lovely,' said Alrad, staring after the soldier. 'Smells like an outhouse.' he added as an afterthought.

'That may be, but at least we have found out that we can get away talking to some people around here.'

'Hooray,' Owar muttered under his breath. Fembor silenced him with a sharp look and Owar shut up.

'Come closer, we need to discuss what we are going to do.'

Fembor lead them away to behind a row of tents and when he rounded the corner, Robert saw a crateful of chickens staked up and the chickens because to cluck and squawk when they came into view.

'Nice,' Harwin said in a dry voice.

'Please ignore the chickens, this is serious,' Fembor said quietly and urgently. The others gathered around and listened closely. Fembor turned towards Darl who was muttering something under his breath and he turned to see everyone looking at him.

'Making sure that we're not overheard,' he explained and the others nodded in understanding.

'What's the information you wish to tell us?' Fembor asked quietly.

'When Fembor questioned the soldier about the marching going on over there,' he pointed towards the sounds of the tramping feet in the distance to stress his point. 'I examined the soldier's mind.'

'I thought you said that the soldiers were trained to shield their minds,' Robert piped up before he could stop himself and Fembor held up his hand for silence.

'What you say it true, is it not, Darl. Could you care to explain please?'

'I was coming to this. The soldier's minds are defended, yes, but whist Fembor was distracting that soldier, his concentration slipped and I was able to gain access to his mind. There is a large section of the army going to Urû'baen in the next five days, the first section leave tonight at eight o'clock sharp. There has been a list of who goes on what day which has been pinned up outside the main command tent.'

'Well that's stupid,' Owar said, 'It's almost certain that more than half of the people in this camp can't read and write.'

'And that's why the names are being read out every half hour,' Darl replied evenly and Owar shut his mouth. 'Horse numbers have been assigned next to the name.'

'Can anybody here read?' Alrad asked innocently.

'I can. I have had to write reports in the past so I can read and write,' Fembor said patiently but there was a tint of annoyance in his voice. 'Enough about who can read and write and who can't. Is there anything else we need to know, Darl?'

'Not really,' he said after wracking his brains.

'Then shall we have a quick poke around?' Fembor asked and the others nodded their agreement. They left the clucking of the chickens and the six of them wandered through camp, having no idea where they were going but after about ten minutes, Robert spotted a huge black tent between two others and he tugged on Fembor's sleeve.

'Oy, is that what we're looking for?' he asked. Fembor hauled in the others and they strolled casually towards a notice board which had been driven into the ground outside the pavilion. It reminded Robert of Nasuada's pavilion, although this one had a foreboding air about it and he increased his pace towards the notice board.

It was a standard board which could be seen in any town, a small roof was set over it. One half was devoted to notices and messages and the other half showed faces of criminals throughout the land. He scanned the faces and picked out Stronghammer, who was near the centre and one of the Varden's commanders before Fembor cleared his throat.

There was a long list of parchment which was hammered onto the board covered with runes and Fembor scanned down them and near the bottom, he smiled.

'It seems that Vamyr, Solin, Lewin, Thorbriy, Gorvas and Nix were due to leave for the capital tonight,' Fembor reported and Robert could hardly contain himself from punching the air.

'Ha ha! One step closer!' he whispered.

'Shut up!' Alrad hissed and Robert shut up. He glanced around to see if anybody was nearby but it seemed that no one was, thank the gods.

'Time,' Fembor said urgently and Harwin looked towards the skies, examining them and he said, 'About seven.'

'We've got a little while then, about half an hour,' Fembor said, relived but it seemed that they didn't have half an hour. Fifteen minutes later, a horn rung through the camp and there was suddenly, blissfully, activity all around. There was shouting, pushing, the ringing of armour and the tramping of feet and Robert looked up, he had been polishing the sword he had acquired from the dead man's belongings which he now considered his and he sheathed the sword and raced towards Owar and Harwin who had also jumped to their feet.

'Half an hour,' Owar grumbled but Harwin was already off, running towards the horse lines and Robert looked towards Owar who grimaced.

'Eager to, err ... for him, isn't he?' he said and Robert smiled.

'Very,' he agreed. They were both swept away by the crowd. Robert was please to be able to see Alyth again and there was a lot of shouting at the horse lines and there were horses being lead around, numbers being shouted out and the stamping of hooves on the barren dirt.

'Ahh, you,' one of the men shouted and Robert jumped. It was the soldier whom he had handed Alyth to earlier.

'Horse two hundred and twenty seven?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Over there.' The soldier pointed and Robert shouldered his way through the crowd.

Alyth spotted Robert first and she whinnied a welcome and started to wrench at the post on which her halter had been tied.

'Easy,' Robert murmured as he untied her and she buried her muzzle in his hand. Owar marched up and untied his dark grey horse, which he had named Shadow, and grabbed his saddle which had been draped over the rail on which he had been tied to. Robert did the same with Alyth and soon afterwards, Alrad, Darl, Harwin and Fembor had done the same with their horses. Robert mounted Alyth and directed her towards the main gates where the soldiers were headed. The rest of the band followed and they were soon in rows facing the main gate.

Robert looked towards the skies and he could see stars now and they glittered above his head. He guessed that it was about half past seven. From the row he was in, Robert could see a man in bright shining armour on a black charger, much like Fembor's horse, Lemnos.

Under his basic helmet, Robert thought of the man as a commander, he had a small goatee and moustache and piggy eyes. Robert could barely make out what the commander was shouting and he listened, hard.

'Right you miserable wretches! Tonight, you are returning to the capital and you know the rules; no talking when not allowed to, no stepping out of line and keep to your rations and keep at a steady pace. The King is wishing to have most of his army back at the capital to make sure that Varden scum don't go in a try to rescue back their Rider and dragon.'

There were a few laughs here and Robert tightened his grip on Alyth reins. The laughter died quickly and the commander continued with his speech.

'Move out in five minutes and I want us to arrive at the capital in the week, so prepare and as soon as those gates open, get marching, the lot of ya!'

There was silence and Robert fidgeted, looking next to him, he saw Harwin, a determined expression on his face and his horse was snorting and neighing.

_I wonder what happens if you talk? _Robert wondered but he didn't want to find out. This was what it was like to be in the King's armies and he was glad that his family had fled from Bullridge when they did. A few more minutes passed and then the gates swung open and the front of the army began to move out. These were the people who were travelling on foot and slowly, the line progressed. Robert was impressed with their speed and he tapped Alyth lightly on her sides and they began to march to the capital. All was silent apart from the tramping of feet and a drum somewhere ahead.

* * *

**FIVE **DAYS HAD passed since the section of the army had set out from the Empire's camp and Robert had found out what happened to those who talked. On the second day, four rows in front of him, a soldier had exclaimed angrily as they had stopped and his neighbour had driven the butt of his pike onto the man's foot and he had received a beating. Robert had to secretly meet Fembor and the rest of the group late into the night to discuss what the next step of their plan would be.

Robert was now saddle sore and tired and so was Alyth, the mare was plodding along and her head was low and her flanks were covered in a sheen of sweat. Robert could see the capital looming ahead of them in the morning sunlight and he blinked a few times. They were in the farmland part of the area now and every so often, people would look up from their work for a few seconds to watch them pass and Robert was reminded of when he was smaller and when Ari was with them and his jokes and their least favourite jobs of pulling up all of the weeds in the fields.

He looked longingly at the land but his gaze yet again returned to the looming capital. It reached towards the heavens and he found himself muttering a quick pray and Owar, who was as equally trued as Robert looked at him and patted Shadow on his neck and the stallion looked back at him sadly.

Robert didn't dare to ask how long Owar thought that they would be arriving at the capital but as the day progressed, they drew ever closer to Urû'baen. There were more and more houses as they got closer to Urû'baen and Robert looked up to see sandstone houses lining the houses and the palace made of black marble sitting atop the city. His gut twisted at the sight of it and it was just before dusk when they finally entered the city.

The first houses lining the streets were single storey houses made of sandstone and as he thought again of sandstone, Robert wondered why it hadn't eroded and why it had been chosen as building material.

He still dared not to speak and the sound of Alyth hooves echoed around the buildings and they were forced to walk in rows of eight now instead of the thirty men across as they had maintained whist marching to the capital. They marched up the streets and came across a courtyard and marble steps lead up into the main palace; but instead of walking up the steps, the column of men veered off to the right and halted. Robert saw out of the corner of his eye a man coming down the steps and he walked along the line of men. He was bald and he wore sweeping black robes. Robert knew that this wasn't the King for he had seen his face many times on coins and this man didn't have the King's crooked nose.

'You!' he said, pointing to Harwin and he spurred his horse forwards.

'Yes, sir?' he asked in a polite voice.

'And you,' he said, ignoring Harwin now and pointed towards Robert and he too came forwards on Alyth.

'Yes, sir?'

'Get off those miserable beasts and follow me,' the man snapped and he turned around and walked up the steps. Robert and Harwin had no choice but to obey and they followed the man up the steps and the rest of the men marched off. Robert caught Fembor's eye and he said with them: _Be careful._

'I need you two for guard duty,' the man said after a few minutes of walking in silence and he turned on his heel.

'Of course, sir,' Harwin said quickly and the man grunted, eyeing Harwin's armour.

'Change those tunics, the both of you and I will wait for five minutes and five minutes only.'

Robert looked hopelessly at Harwin and before the game could be given away, the man addressed their worst fear for the moment.

'Newcomers, eeh?'

'No, sir,' Harwin said 'we've never been in this section of the palace before.'

'Aah. The laundry is that door over there and talk to the washer there and he'll give you a replacement tunics, now go!'

Robert and Harwin scampered off and bolted into the door where they found a pudgy man beside a huge tub of water which white clothes were being washed in. He looked up as the two of them entered and eyed their clothing.

'Need replacements?' he asked before either of them could open their mouths and they nodded silently.

The washer grunted and bustled off into a side room and remerged two minutes later with new tunics and Robert and Harwin quick striped off theirs and tugged the new ones over their heads. The washer nodded.

'Right then, now out of here. I have clothes to wash!'

The man was waiting for them and nodded at their new tunics.

'Good. Let's get you down there and the current shift can hand over their weapons for you and don't move from that spot until I return. Understand?' he roared at them and Robert nodded quickly.

The man turned around and walked briskly to a set of stairs and Robert followed after him along with Harwin. They descended the steps and walked along a few more corridors until they came upon one with a huge ironbound door in the centre of it. Two guards stood outside holding pikes in their hands.

'You are relived, go and hand your pikes to these two.'

The guards nodded and the tall beefy one thrust his pike at Robert who caught it and strode over to where the other guard had been standing previously. Harwin took up the opposite side of the door and stood stiff backed and the man swung close into Harwin's face threatingly.

'You will not move until I return, is that understood?'

'Yes, sir!' Harwin replied and the man turned around and followed the other two guards out of sight. Once Robert was sure that they were gone, he turned towards Harwin and gestured at the door.

'What do you think is in here that needs guarding?'

'Dunno,' Harwin said, shrugging. 'Who cares?'

As soon as he said that, there was a loud snort on the other side of the door and they both froze.

'What was that?' Robert whispered and he walked two steps to the right and peered in the crack between the doors, and then recoiled. A large red eye looked back at him, slit pupil and narrowed.

'The red dragon,' Robert said slowly and he shook himself. He hated the red dragon for what he and his Rider had done to thousands of innocent people and for capturing Eragon and Saphira. To him that was the worst the twosome had done.

Harwin's face had drained of colour and he took a half sidestep away from the door.

'I'm hoping that that the man will come back soon.'

He didn't come back and Harwin and Robert were forced to stay awake during the night and Robert was always on edge for he could hear Thorn growling and the deeper growls also coming from the other side of the door and Robert didn't want to find out who else was behind there. He guessed Saphira wasn't there and he felt a small sense of ease creeping over him; at least all six of the Varden that had come to Urû'baen wouldn't have to fight past them.

It was early in the morning when Robert heard footsteps and he hoped that the man had returned but as that someone rounded a corner, he had a hard time of keeping an expressionless face. It was Murtagh.

'I wish to see my dragon,' he said in a deadly quiet voice and Robert's grip tightened on the haft of his pike. He imagined what the answer would be and he took a stab at it.

'I am sorry, sir. But I'm afraid I can't let you in,' he said in a small voice.

'I said let me in or will I have to force myself in,' Murtagh said in the same deadly quiet voice.

Murtagh's eyes gained a far away focus for a few seconds and he blinked several times and he scowled, whatever was happening must have been hard for him for he shook his head a few times. He came back to himself soon afterwards.

'So, will you open this door without a struggle?' he said

'It's on the King's orders that no one but himself is allowed to go through this door, even if they held a sword to our necks! I'm sorry, Murtagh, sir, but you will have to get the King's say so to see your dragon.'

'So you are refusing to let me see my dragon.'

'Yes, sir,' Robert replied, his voice getting stronger

'I guess then this will have to be done the hard way.'

Harwin gave a shout and began to draw his sword from its sheath but Murtagh had lunged and punched Robert on the side of his head and his vision flicked and went black.

* * *

**ROBERT **BLINKED AND opened his eyes. His face was pressed against the cold stone underneath him and he turned his head to see one of the doors now wide open and Robert drew in his breath when he saw the scene before him.

Thorn, a giant red beast was standing in front of Murtagh, his huge bulk blocking the door and a mountain of black gems was behind the red dragon. Robert's heart was in his throat and he could see a pair of legs which were wearing black leather pacing back and forth in front of the red dragon. Robert looked around to Harwin and saw him lying on the floor, out cold and Robert switched his gaze back towards the dragons and then the doors standing ajar. An idea began to form in his head, it was the perfect opportunity and he thought to himself, _Why not take that opportunity?_

He struggled to his feet and carefully, quietly, moved towards the door and began to heave. Thorn's head snapped up and he swung around, his eyes widening as he saw what was happening.

Robert saw Murtagh look around his dragon's leg and Robert whispered, his voice hoarse, 'And you force me to do this the hard way, sir.'

He swung the door shut and it boomed as it crashed into the framework. Robert heard several clicks and the sound of rushing air as the door sealed itself with magic. The boom had awoken Harwin and he gazed around groggily.

'Stay here! I'll be back soon!' he shouted and ran off the corridor, ignoring Murtagh's shouts and the dragon's roars as he ran. It was now or never. He had to find Fembor and tell him what had happened.


	33. Chapter 33 -- The Last Pieces

33

**The Last Pieces**

_I kept the picture of the brick wall in my mind._

_'Yelena,' Mogkan said, 'you've learned a new trick. Red brick, how mundane. But...'_

_I heard a faint scraping noise like stone grinding on stone._

_'Weak spots. Here and here.' Mogkan pointed a finger in the air. 'And I believe this brick is loose.'_

_Mortar crumbled. Small holes appeared in my mental wall._

**_- Poison Study: Maria V. Snyder_**

Boots were marching up the hallway outside and Eragon lifted his head from its current resting position on his arms. Things had been so distant in the last few days. His first worry was, of course, Saphira. The last time he had seen her was when Galbatorix had seen her and that had been roughly three weeks ago. The King hadn't summoned him for over a week now and Eragon knew that he was still mulling over the last set of memories which he had stolen from Eragon's mind. He remembered Murtagh's words for when they had fought a second time on the day of Roran's wedding.

_"He is most adept at the practice." _

It was only a matter of time before he was brought in front of the tyrant again and he knew that this would be the last time it would be so, until the King could guess his true name, and Saphira's. They were both running out of time.

These thoughts rushed through his head as the sound of the boots came closer and closer to the door and they stopped outside of the dense wooden door. Eragon guessed that there were about four people and he could sense their minds but he was still weak, weak from lack of food and he was becoming unfit from lack of exercise, even though he did his best to keep fit by doing the Rimgar every morning, and lack of nourishment. It tried to eat as little of his meals as possible because of the meat that he was served but he had to eat and it had only been out of the fact of pure survival.

The keys rattled in the lock and he looked up as the door swung open. Eragon looked straight into the eyes of the guard and he averted his gaze as he walked into Eragon's cell, such was the ferocity of the look, such was the hate that burned in them. He smiled showing a few missing teeth.

'The King wants ya,' he said, holding out a set of manacles. Eragon was too weak to put up a fight and the guard pulled him roughly to his feet and then swung him over his shoulder as he would a sack of potatoes. 'The other one put up more of a fight than you are when I held him in this same position, Shadeslayer,' he said it in a sneering voice as if Eragon was unworthy of the title.

'I could break your shoulder if you are not careful,' Eragon said in a deadly quiet voice. The soldier laughed and began to trudge up the stone corridor.

'Like to see you try,' he sneered and Eragon raised his fists, locking his fingers together and with blinding speed, brought them down and broke the bone with a sickening _crack!_

The soldier grunted with recognising and he dropped Eragon on the floor with a curse, seeming not be troubled that he could no longer use his right arm.

'So you can, boy,' he growled and picked him up with his left arm while his right hung uselessly at his side. It came crashing down on Eragon that this was one of the soldiers that had been made immune to pain, to have the senses dulled so that the person could no longer feel pain. The small flicker of hope about having an idea to escape died deep inside him and he allowed the soldier to carry him through the barred door at the top of the stairs, through the garden and into the throne room. The guard marched him up to the foot of the throne and deposited Eragon at the foot of it and he cracked his head on the marble step. He grunted and his vision flashed. He made out a whimper from below that came from Saphira and he could feel her concern from his bond with her. He felt her mind stretching out to his and he managed to make a weak connection with her.

_Little one! What has happened? _Her voice was weak as if she were speaking from a distance even thought it couldn't have been a hundred feet.

_One of the guards dropped me and I cracked my head on the bottom step of the stairs that lead to that bastard's throne._

Now mentioning it, he could feel blood oozing down the side of his head.

_I fear that we may be in our last few days of freedom. I'm sure that Galbatorix is going to examine my mind once more._

_And I will be here to help you. If we work together, we can keep him out._

_I'm too weak, Saphira._

_No one can drug a dragon, no one, not even Galbatorix so my mind is as strong as ever. If we combine our minds together, we have a chance of holding back a vital piece of information._

_What would that be?_

_The truth of your parentage. Galbatorix still believes that you are Morzan's child. If he still believes that by the end and he tries to guess your true name, he won't be able to because your personality was changed dramatically when you rid yourself of Morzan's name._

While Eragon had been having this conversation with Saphira, Eragon had been aware of someone walking down the steps and now a glittering purple blade neatly tucked itself under his chin and a foot turned him over onto his back. Eragon was now looking at the King who towered over him, his face bathed in orange light.

'It has been a while, Eragon,' he said. 'I have been carefully studying the last set of your memories and after many hours mulling over them, I have come to collect the last of them. You and your pitiful dragon will soon be under my complete control and you shall join your brother and his dragon in my service.'

'I would rather die than serve you,' Eragon hissed and the tip of Galbatorix's sword dug into Eragon's neck.

'And the best part will be that you won't even have a choice and you cannot stop me.'

'I can try,' Eragon spat and Galbatorix laughed softly.

'I somehow doubt that, Eragon,' he said softly. 'You will soon be in my service.'

_Get ready, Saphira,_ Eragon whispered. Galbatorix threw his consciousness at Eragon as Saphira put up barriers around that vital piece of information, the information about who Eragon's father was. This was where she placed her stronger barriers and the rest of them she devoted to protecting Eragon's mind. Galbatorix's probe stopped short as it reached the barriers and he cocked his head, a small smile on his face.

'Relying on your dragon now are you, boy?' he said. He reached downwards through the floor and Eragon's heart caught in his throat.

_Saphira!_ he cried and he reached out and grabbed the King's ankle and tugged, tripping him up and his concentration slipped slightly.

'Don't you dare hurt her,' Eragon snarled. He was still holding onto Galbatorix's leg and the King tried to kick him away.

'Get off me,' he said in a dangerous voice but Eragon ignored him. Saphira roared, she was unable to help her Rider who was in peril and she longed to break through the floor to reach him.

_Eragon!_ she shouted, _What is happening?_

Before he could reply, Galbatorix drew his dagger from his sleeve, sat up and stabbed downwards into Eragon's shoulder. The pain it brought made Eragon's concentration waver and he shouted and Saphira whimpered as the pain raced across to her. It was during this time that Galbatorix slipped into Eragon's mind.

He saw his battle with the Ra'zac with Roran standing behind him and Saphira battling with the giant Lethrblaka as they rolled around the cavern, Saphira clawing and biting them whist they stabbed her with their beaks. Eragon raised the hawthorn staff that Roran had given him to block one of the leaf shaped blades favoured by the Ra'zac which had been aimed to decapitate him. Then he and Roran were creeping along the dark corridors and Eragon heard an arrow whistling through the air and he pushed Roran out of the way, getting sliced across the cheek in the process by the arrow and the burning seithr oil that the arrowhead had been dipped in eating into his flesh. Next came when Saphira was clawing at the entrance of one of the tunnels, determined not to leave her Rider in Helgrind and Eragon felt the ache of guilt about not telling either Roran or Katrina about Sloan.

And then running through the Empire, alone and the terror he had felt when he saw Thorn on the horizon, looking for him. When he and Arya had met in Eastcroft and the battle they had had with the Empire's soldiers and the campfire, the grass ship that Arya made and the words she had written in the dirt, the flower and the spirits that had come into the camp that night. The joy he had felt when he and Saphira had been reunited and the feast he had had with his friends, the bread crust man that Angela had made.

When Galbatorix saw Angela's face, his hold on Eragon faltered and the Rider and dragon took advantage of this pause to force the King out of Eragon's mind. Eragon blinked, opening his eyes as pain blossomed in his shoulder. He looked down to see a thin wound in his shoulder. Blood collected on the floor by his shoulder and he clapped his hand over the wound, even this small movement hurt and he bared his teeth. Galbatorix was blinking hard and his breathing was deep. His eyes flicked towards Eragon.

'Who is she?' he asked.

'Why do you care?' Eragon whispered.

Galbatorix chuckled.

'Never mind, I shall find out soon enough.'

Saphira tried to block Eragon's mind again and her barriers were weaker than before, due to the pain in Eragon shoulder and the might of Galbatorix's mental probe easily shattered the barriers.

Eragon was now on Saphira, fighting Murtagh and Thorn in the skies and the conversation that the two of them had had before attacking. Galbatorix was interested, but didn't dwell on this for long and now Eragon's sword was clashing against Zar'roc as the two dragons grappled with eachother, plummeting towards the ground below and Eragon's hurt as Zar'roc had pierced his hip. His thoughts were melded with Saphira's and Arya's and through her, Blödhgarm and the eleven other elves.

_You rely on the help of _them?Galbatorix said, his voice taunting and more memories were forced out of Eragon. He now saw Roran and Katrina's wedding and then his outrage at having to travel to the dwarves' coronation ceremony and being separated from Saphira. His anger at Nasuada thrilled through him and next he was running next to Nar Garzhvog, his footsteps and the Kull's the only sounds to be heard and the story he was told by Garzhvog and the information about the Urgal villages.

Next he was with the dwarven children as they lead him through the twisting tunnels towards Bregan Hold and his foster brother, Orik and then he was standing with Orik in the forest of stone and the argument the two of them had had. He was standing in Tronjheim, in the room where the dwarves had discussed who would ascend to the throne. The attack by the black garbed dwarves who had wielded daggers with terrifying properties, Eragon saw Kvîstor's death all over again and renewed guilt washed up inside him.

He was still trying to force out Galbatorix along with Saphira but as before, Galbatorix hardly paid them attention as if he considered the effort the two of them were putting up to be worthless.

Galbatorix pushed harder and Eragon yelled, his head was aching, burning and more memories came before his eyes.

The banishing of Dûrgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhûin and Orik's rise to become King. Meeting up with Saphira under Farthen Dûr and his joy, and Saphira's, rushed through him and laughing at Saphira's hiccups. Then the coronation, the rose petals falling everywhere and then the appearance of the god, the illusion placing the helm that Hrothgar had worn on Orik's brow and then Saphira gift to the dwarves. Isidar Mithrim flared with a ruby light as Saphira touched the gem with her snout, the scaffolding falling away to reveal the gem as a whole once more. Then he was flying with Saphira through the Beor Mountains and then in the Hadarac Desert and the huge buffeting wind that Saphira had battled against. Then both Eragon and Saphira were under the cover of the trees in Du Weldenvarden and speaking to Oromis and Glaedr in the pool, telling them they needed to go to Ellesméra so they could speak directly to the two of them.

Eragon was then ranting, shouting at both the dragon and Rider about not telling him who his father was.

_Eragon! Get him out! _Saphira roared as she desperately struggled with all of her strength to keep away that vital piece of information, the only chance to foil Galbatorix's search of Eragon's mind.

_I…can't! He's too strong! _Eragon said frantically. Galbatorix could sense them trying even harder to block them and he smashed into their barriers, denting them and the Rider and dragon struggled to strengthen them once more.

_I sense something important here, _Galbatorix sneered and enveloped Eragon's mind and slowly, surely, began to crush the barriers around that one memory. Saphira roared in agony and Eragon knelt on the floor, eyes tight shut and concentrating so hard on keeping the King out of his mind that he forgot where he was, forgot the blinding pain from his shoulder and fought the King at the speed of thought to get him out of his mind.

_No! _Eragon roared and pushed harder than ever against the King's mind. They both struggled but in the end, the King could not be denied his prize and the barriers broke and Galbatorix stuttered at the truth of Eragon's real father.

_Bromsson, _he whispered, dazed and confused. Eragon and Saphira managed to push him out of Eragon's mind but they both knew that Galbatorix was close, so close to guessing Eragon's true name, and Saphira's. Galbatorix stumbled up the stairs and slumped into his throne.

'No, no,' he whispered. His eyes darted to Eragon, blazing with hate and he stood up shakily. He knew, the King knew his heritage.

_Saphira, _Eragon whispered. _They should not have told me, they should not have told me that Brom was my father._

_The King would have pried it from my mind. He has been to see me twice and has stolen information from my mind as well. He would have found out eventually._

_Why didn't you tell me that he had seen you?_

_Because you are worried enough as it is, you don't need more on your plate at the moment._

_But you should have told me._

'Brom. Curse you, Brom,' Galbatorix roared and he fixed his burning eyes on Eragon. 'This ends now; you shall be mine by sunrise!'

Galbatorix threw his consciousness at Eragon and continued to flick through memories. He and Saphira were now discussing the Eldunarya and then Eragon was seeing the memory that Saphira had shown him, and then he was standing in front of the Menoa Tree, prowling around the roots with Saphira, searching for the weapon the werecat had been talking about. And then he was talking to Rhunön, about the Rider's swords and how she could not make Eragon a sword, not only because of her oath, but because she did not have the metal she required for the blade: Brightsteel. Next Saphira and Eragon were by the Menoa Tree again, held prisoner by the roots and the ground tearing apart beneath Eragon's feet to reveal the lump of ore.

He was then witnessing once more the forging of Brisingr and Eragon once again felt the ancient smith in his mind, controlling his actions and crafting the sword that lay before him on the anvil, white hot and glowing with heat. Eragon now stood before a table, the completed sword hidden beneath a length of cloth and Rhunön finally revealing the sword and then the naming that had taken place afterwards.

Eragon heard himself cry once more, 'Brisingr!' and he watched as the blade caught fire. With his completed sword, Eragon once again stood by Oromis and Glaedr and Glaedr was looking into Eragon's eyes.

_So now I will ask you, Saphira Brightscales and Eragon Shadeslayer, will you accept my gift and all it entails? _he asked.

_I will._

_I will._

Eragon watched as Glaedr's throat began to flex and he opened his mouth to reveal the glittering Eldunarí on his tongue which slid into Eragon's arms. He remembered as Glaedr's every feeling and thought had rushed into him and the power and life Eragon held between his hands and how grateful he had been when Oromis had handed him the cotton bag and Eragon had slid Glaedr's Eldunarí into it. Flying above Du Weldenvarden was the next memory he beheld with Glaedr and Oromis soaring beside him and Saphira and how their paths had parted at the edge of the trees.

Feinster was now below him, a battle ground of fighting men and the sound of war, Eragon and Saphira rescuing Arya and Blödhgarm by the foot of the walls and their encounter with the three spellcasters, how they had turned and fled. Then when he had told Roran and Arya about who his real father was and then all he saw was fighting and the Varden's astonishment at his new sword and the flames that engulfed the blade whenever he shouted the sword's name. And then the experience of seeing through Glaedr's eyes, looking down on the battle at Gil'ead, preparing to fight Murtagh and Thorn and Arya's confusion when Eragon had told her what had happened. Then finding Lady Lorana and the three spellcasters, attempting to create a Shade and the race that begun between them and Eragon's second vision through Glaedr's eyes. Afterwards, how he, Saphira and Arya tried to slay the spellcasters and Eragon's hopelessness as he saw the spirits fly through the window.

And then the final vision through Glaedr's eyes. Galbatorix taking over Murtagh's body and then after trying to persuade the two to join the Empire, how he had ruthlessly killed them. And then he was fighting Varaug all over again and the Shade's mind, how it pressed on to his own and the frantic fight that took place, Arya's flying hair as she stabbed Varaug through the heart and the Shade's scream as he disappeared.

Then the grief came.

Eragon was now holding Arya in his arms, her sobs resounding throughout his ears and Saphira's mourning for the deceased dragon and Rider. Her comfort was the most welcome thing at that moment, after killing a Shade and watching his mentors die from Glaedr's eyes, that was one of the worst things that had happened to him and Saphira, and Glaedr's fury that burnt inside him…

Then he was talking to Nasuada about his and Saphira's tutors, how they had both spent so much time with them on the Crags of Tel'naeír and when they were just gone, slipped off into the void, it was as if Eragon had just experienced Brom's death all over again, but the loss welled up inside him and he had struggled with the whole story, knowing that one of his masters was just outside in Saphira's saddlebags, trapped in his own personal night. Standing with Saphira on top of Feinster's fortifications and holding Glaedr's Eldunarí high, welcoming the new day.

Flying, flying with Saphira above the Jiet River and the sorrow that they shared together, the huge, silver moon hanging in the sky as the two of them soared in the stars. Falling into a stupor when Nasuada started to talk about battle plans and the moving of the Varden. Eragon's joy of seeing Arya again, and then asking Nasuada whether he and Saphira could go to Gil'ead for Oromis and Glaedr's funerals. Flying with Saphira in the crisp morning air, starting when she pulled up and turned tightly around having seen the Empire's camp and the frantic rush they had both been in to get back to the Varden and report it to Nasuada. How afterwards, his, Saphira's and Arya's grief had been made anew and how they had settled down in the clearing for the night, crying themselves to sleep and Saphira's own pain coursing through Eragon.

Flying with both of them the next morning and Arya anger and terror at flying, when she slapped him after she had fallen off Saphira and Saphira's laughter as it echoed around the camp. His wrestle with Roran and the sword fighting session he had had with Lang to show the Carvahall villagers some basic swordplay. The news of Murtagh and Thorn leaving Urû'baen and his anger as Nasuada wouldn't allow him to go to Oromis and Glaedr's funeral.

When he had had breakfast with Roran and the messenger boy that had been terrified of Saphira and her glistening fangs and Eragon reassuring him. The tediously long talk that had ensured just before Murtagh and Thorn attacked, and then fighting them. He felt Saphira's terror course through him as they both fell towards the ground and she could not right herself and place Thorn under her and when Murtagh had broken Saphira's wing and they fell, both of them and Murtagh had slipped into Eragon's mind and paralysed him, rendering him helpless.

The journey the both of them had to Urû'baen and the farmer who had charged at the soldiers, showing how much he hated the Empire and how willing he was to show his faith in Eragon and Saphira, even if it meant his death. And then facing the King himself. That had been among one of the worst memories. Then the first time Galbatorix had invaded his mind and snatched his memories away from him. Talking to Murtagh about changing his true name and Galbatorix's grip tightened at this memory.

_Treason,_ he snarled and dived back into Eragon's memories.

Now he was with Saphira and he could feel her agony through his link with her and, O', how he hated Galbatorix for hurting her! Murtagh was running up the steps towards Galbatorix's throne and he held the green egg high, there was a flash of red light as it disappeared as Galbatorix's spell hit his half-brother in the chest. Then the salt torture on his back and the pain it had caused.

And then the days he had spent waiting, waiting for the last of the tortures to come and his confusion at finding Arya in his cell, how she had looked at him, her eyes full of tears and when she had opened her mouth, how she had disappeared.

Now the King released his grip on Eragon and he slumped down onto the floor, tears streaming down his face. Galbatorix sat ridged in his throne.

'Bromsson,' he hissed, standing up and walking down the steps until he towered over Eragon.

'I am proud to call him my father,' Eragon whispered.

Galbatorix gave him a murderous look, as if it was his fault that he was the son of one of his most hated enemies.

'You will not leave this hall until I come back, as I promised, you will be mine by sunrise,' he snarled. He turned around the room and spotted a lone guard in the corner of the room. 'Watch him and make sure he doesn't leave this room.'

Galbatorix swept out and the doors boomed shut behind him and Eragon was left on the middle of the floor, clutching his shoulder and most of attention was on the pain and he barely noticed the soft footsteps coming up next to him.

_Little one,_ Saphira murmured. _Oh, little one._

_He knows, you know what he said, I'll be his by sunrise, and I'm guessing that he means you to, _Eragon said miserably. A tear slid down his nose and splashed onto the floor; this wasn't from the pain in his shoulder, this was from the loss of freedom.

_I'm sorry, Saphira._

_I am too._

_You did nothing wrong._

_My barriers weakened and that allowed the King access to your mind._

_It wasn't you; you did so well, it's just that he's so strong with all the eldunayra behind the attack._

'Shadeslayer.'

The whisper was so unexpected that Eragon jumped and spun on his heel, his shoulder burning to find the soldier Galbatorix had told to guard him, crouching down were Eragon had been seconds before. Eragon stayed stock still, one leg under him and the other behind him, ready to spring.

'What?' he growled, shifting his weight.

'Please hear me out! I am an agent for the Varden,' he whispered. Eragon felt Saphira's surprise as well as his own, confused thoughts rushed around his head but he did not relax his position.

'How do I know that you are telling the truth?' he whispered hoarsely.

'How about if I told you I locked Murtagh up with those red and black dragons?' the soldier said. Eragon narrowed his eyes.

'It's going to take more than that to persuade me,' he said.

'Examine my memories if you wish,' the soldier said.

Eragon snorted.

'I can't, you must find other ways to prove that you truly are part of the Varden,'

The soldier looked around frantically.

'I serve under Fembor,' he said finally. The name was familiar to Eragon and he struggled to remember where he had heard it. After gathering his thoughts for a few seconds, he remembered where he had heard the name before. Nasuada had mentioned him to Eragon a while back.

_'Is there anyone else you can trust apart from Saphira and I?' he asked her. 'I need to know for your safety whist I am gone.'_

_'I have several people I trust, Eragon. Do not be idle enough to think I only trust one person. One of my spies, Fembor, he is one I trust completely for example.'_

Eragon narrowed his eyes even more; he still didn't completely trust the soldier and he must have seen it in Eragon's face because he fidgeted uncomfortably.

'Please trust me,' he said.

'Give me one reason to trust you.'

The soldier licked his lips.

'I have nothing more to offer,' he said finally.

'You can swear it in the ancient language.'

'I have no knowledge in that tongue.'

'Then you must say this.'

Eragon coached him and the soldier finally said, mispronouncing several syllables: 'I am not one of the Empire and I serve the Varden loyally.'

It was only now that Eragon satisfied and he relaxed.

'Why are you here?'

'To free you, I heard what that bastard King said and I was thinking that we get you out tonight.'

'I can't let you,' a voice said and Eragon whipped his head around. Standing in front of a tapestry was a woman in a cotton dress, a short dagger held in her hand. Before the soldier could jump up, she came at them both, swing the blade.


	34. Chapter 34 -- The Naming

34

**Naming**

_And at the exact same moment, in perfect unison, as if we had rehearsed it for weeks, we both shouted, "Marley!"_

_"That's it!" I exclaimed. "That's our name." Jenny was smiling, a good sign. I tried it on for size. "Marley, come!" I commanded. "Marley, stay! Good boy, Marley!"_

**_- Marley and Me: John Grogan_**

The dragon wailed.

Arya sighed and got to her feet. It had been two days since Glaedr had shown them his memories of Urû'baen and the dragon was already growing bigger, despite being four days old. He was longer from head to tail and taller at the shoulder. He still perched on Arya's shoulder but she could feel him getting heavier. She scratched his head and he purred, a bit like a cat and he fluttered his wings, wailing for food. Yesterday he had caught a rat outside her tent and it had only been sheer luck that he hadn't been seen. Arya had worried so much she had been unable to find him and her anger as he walked through the tent flap with the rat clamped in his jaws. The dragon had sensed her unhappiness and disapproval and dropped the rat moodily.

_Don't be too harsh on him, Arya. He is a young one and it is his nature, _Glaedr had told her and Arya sighed as she looked at him. He was so young and he was only following his nature, it wasn't right for him to be keep away in a tent, he needed to be free and able to explore the world.

_I can't punish him, his is only following his nature. _As Arya looked into his emerald eyes, she could see he knew that she wasn't happy with him and his body language expressed that as well, one word: sorry.

This memory brought a smile to Arya's face as she rummaged around in a leather pouch and produced two strips of bacon, feeling slightly sick as she handled the meat. When she had gone to the cooks tents to get meat, the cook had been astonished that she had asked for any at all, it had been the first time any of the elves had asked for meat. He had given Arya a few kilograms and she had hurried back to her tent, jumping as the dragon flapped up onto her shoulder, squeaking in delight as he caught the scent of the meat. Arya took out her knife and cut the meat into small pieces as she had done with the squirrel. The dragon snapped at the meat and swallowed it with a jerk, barely pausing to chew it and he sat there, waiting for more.

Arya feed him carefully, making sure to keep her fingers out of the way and when he was done, he crawled into her lap and curled into a ball. He began to hum and Arya began to stroke him.

_Will you consider what I said before? _Glaedr asked.

_What was that again? _Arya said.

_About naming him; you can't keep referring to him as "the dragon" all of the time._

_Hmmm…._

Arya continued to stroke the dragon and his humming increased in volume.

_What were some names of the dragons in the Golden days of the Riders, Gla-master, _she said, once again very nearly forgetting to call Glaedr "master".

Arya felt Glaedr's sadness wash through her.

_There were many brave dragons from the Golden years, many trapped in Galbatorix's service in their Eldunarí, many brave ones who fought him in the Fall and many years before that traitor was even born, even thought of. I knew many of them and they would be proud if another carried their name._

_The night he hatched, I thought about naming him but none of the names I could come up with seemed to fit._

Glaedr thought for a moment before replying.

_You do not have to name him after another dragon; you could come up with something new._

_How should I do it?_

_Look at his personality and think of the best word to describe him in the ancient language. You may keep that word or you could alter it slightly. Or you may wish to think up another name which you would call a fellow elf, human or dwarf if you wish._

Arya paused and thought, looking down at the dragon in her lap. He had one of his eyes open and he was looking at her lovingly.

_Something nice, _she decided after a while. The dragon stood up on his hind legs and placed his front feet on Arya's chest and she stroked the side of his face.

_What are some names, master? _Arya asked. Glaedr was silent for a few moments.

_Some names of the dragons I knew were __Anur, Fundor, Eland, Ohen the Strong, and Elón… _Glaedr started and the dragon turned his head around to the corner of the room where, on a small table, Glaedr's Eldunarí was covered by a blanket and he settled into Arya's lap as she listened to the names that Glaedr was giving her. As he said them, she considered each of the names by fitting them with her dragon.

_Anur? No. Fundor? No. Eland? Not that one either. Ohen? Maybe, but the strong bit might be an idea. And Elón? Definitely not._

_Strong? _Glaedr asked.

_It might be an idea, I'll think about it for a bit before deciding._

Glaedr tensed and Arya was still when she heard someone approaching and the dragon, following her actions, snapped his eyes towards the mouth of the tent, quivering and Arya picked him up and placed him on the bed and went to the flap and looked outside to see a messenger boy jogging towards her tent. The other elves melted out of the shadows to surround the tent as the boy drew closer and Arya could now see his features, recognising him as Relath and she stepped out, pausing to nudge the dragon back into the tent.

_Watch over him please, master. It seems that Nasuada wants me. Make sure he doesn't stray outside please._

_Of course, Arya._

Arya walked outside and the messenger boy came up to her and bowed awkwardly.

'Lady Nasuada wishes to see you, Ambassador,' he said in a small voice.

'Tell her I shall come soon.'

He scampered off and Arya went back inside her tent and retrieved her sword, strapping it onto her waist, and then exiting the tent. She made her way quickly towards Nasuada's pavilion and the guards outside stared at her flatly. Arya recognised Morin and he scowled at her.

'Shadeslayer is here to see you,' he said grumpily.

'Let her in,' Nasuada called and Arya strode forwards into the pavilion.

Nasuada was sat at the huge oak table where all of her newly finished scrolls were laid out and she looked up from her work as Arya walked in.

'Ah, good,' Nasuada said, standing up and clasping her hands in front of her.

'Why did you want to see me?' Arya asked and Nasuada sighed.

'Arya, do not take this personally, but I was thinking last night, the original plan to hide the dragon, it will not work. He will soon be too big and people are wondering why you spend so much time in your tent. Show him to the Varden and he won't have to hide, give him the chance to grow up being a dragon and not have him hide away in a tent.'

Arya stood still as she listened to Nasuada and her eyebrows came close together and she sat on the edge of one of the many chairs around the table, her hands clasped in her lap. When Nasuada finished, Arya stood up.

'You know the reasons why we agreed to keep this secret, Nasuada. And what of your own ideas to explain my disappearance? Why not just tell the Varden that I have gone off to Gil'ead to present the egg to the elves who currently reside there? Tell them that if you must, for I do not wish people to always pay attention to me, more than they do now, asking me to solve all of their petty problems. This may have been the path that Eragon has chosen, and maybe Murtagh among the citizens of the Empire, but I do not wish for people to fall all over me simply because of my dragon.'

Nasuada stood and fury flashed in her eyes.

'You know why we cannot use that excuse, what if the Empire attack and you suddenly bound to the rescue when you are supposed to be half way across Alagaësia? People will start to suspect many things, including that you disobeyed my orders. I have said to you also that I am willing to take the gamble of keeping this dragon secret, not only for you, but because the hatching of this egg may be out only defence against the Empire.'

'Then why show the dragon to the world? The Empire will find out quickly and before you know it, Murtagh and Thorn would have return to take me and my dragon away to Urû'baen and then, you shall surely be lost, unless you stumble across another egg which is highly doubtful, impossible even. Your father recognised that, the only real chance we would get of toppling Galbatorix from his throne is from the help of a Dragon Rider and here I am, willing to give you, and not my mother my services. You should feel grateful about that.' Arya was pacing now and her voice was deadly quiet as she spoke to Nasuada and she watched as Nasuada stood once more, walked around the back of her chair and clasped the back tightly, her grip getting stronger with Arya's every word.

'The reason for my decision,' Nasuada said slowly, 'is that I want nothing but the best for you and the dragon, for as you yourself said, you two are the only hope we have left. Galbatorix nearly holds all of the cards now, but you are not in his grasp.'

'If you want nothing but the best for my dragon and I,' Arya started, 'then you can help us by leaving us alone!'

Arya glared at Nasuada who stood there, ridged as Arya could see that she was fighting down the desire to shout at her, with immense difficulty.

'I will not pretend to be an expert, but I can tell for a fact that he is not happy, reveal him, and he shall have freedom,' Nasuada said and Arya knew part of that was true, the dragon was unhappy, unhappy because he had not been able to fly outside, to really stretch his wings and his wingspan was now as wide as Arya's tent with the wings tips brushing the canvas on either side of the tent when he stretched them out.

'He shall not have freedom if you reveal him. Look at Eragon and Saphira for example, people are always running to them with requests and he and Saphira are hardly free to do anything at all, it is a blessing for them to be together, alone and away from the Varden for a few hours. If you truly want to give him freedom, then leave both of us alone.

'And if the Empire finds out about him, then as I said before, Murtagh and Thorn will come after us, maybe destroying the Varden in the process now that Eragon and Saphira are both in the capital and cannot fight them directly.'

'The other part of my argument,' Nasuada continued. 'Is when he is big enough to be trained, I doubt that he could be trained in a tent which he will be bigger than in three weeks, maybe even two. The truth will get out soon enough, so why wait?'

'Because I wish to enjoy the peace I am experiencing now.'

'That will be gone very soon.'

'Then I want it to last as long as possible.'

'Show him now and give the truth out to the Varden and difficult questions will be avoided.'

'Not only will the Varden be alerted, but the Empire also for I know that you know that throughout this camp, there are spies of the Empire and you can't change that, just as there is our spies in Urû'baen. I will not show him now, as for your concerns when he gets too big for the tent, I could, as you suggested, show him to the Varden or I could move away from camp.'

'I cannot let you, we are desperate for troops of any kind, even if they are farmers who have taken up swords and marched into battle the very next day. The night that the dragon hatched and you were gone, there was another incident between the Urgals of the camp and the Varden, one of the Varden slipped poison into a cauldron full of broth which some Urgals eat and they are in mortal peril now, it is taking all of Du Vrangr Grata's healing skills, along with those of the Urgal spellcasters to heal them and ease their pain.

'The man in question is due to hanged tomorrow, so if a fight breaks out; I need everyone possible to calm the tempers that have been enflamed.'

'This does not help with the matter that you have brought up. I shall not reveal the dragon yet.'

Nasuada banged her hands on the table in anger.

'Then when will you? I need to know. As soon as he is big enough, we need to take Belatona.'

'It will be some months before he is big enough to participate in a battle of that scale.'

'When he is big enough to fight, I will and I must send you two into battle.'

'I will not let you,' Arya said in a deadly quite voice.

'I will and I must. If the Varden stand any chance of survival, then I must do anything in my power to make that happen.' Nasuada fixed her gaze on Arya. 'I told you about the incident between the Urgals and The Varden for a reason. When Eragon and Saphira were here, it would have been madness to do such a thing. It happened and there's nothing we can do about it save kill the man who did the poisoning, but don't you see, it was because of Eragon and Saphira that people held their anger in check, and with them gone, the relationships between the two races have been getting rockier and rockier still?

'If we introduce a new Rider, these attacks will hopefully stop, for we need every man, every soldier available to stop this war and bring peace to Alagaësia, and if the people find out you are a Rider, these things will stop and we won't lose warriors.

'So ask yourself this, is it out of your own selfishness that you wish to keep the dragon a secret? Or is there another reason?'

Arya jumped up and kicked down the chair she had been sitting on and it shattered as it hit the ground.

'How dare you say that?! How dare you! Be grateful that I have offered you my services and that I am not marching off to Gil'ead with the dragon to join my mother. Be grateful that you have another Rider aiding you, and a teacher who can teach the dragon and I, but be careful you do not let your tongue run away with you! It is not out of my own good, to stretch the time period the dragon and I have together before we are swamped by people, it is so that Galbatorix does not find out about the egg hatching, and then he would surely send Murtagh and Thorn after us, make them capture us and present us to the King. I doubt then we would be helpful, just as Eragon and Saphira aren't now.

'My reason, is simple, it is because the dragon and I are the only chance you stand of bring down the Empire and getting back Eragon and Saphira!'

She had shouted all of these words at the top of her lungs and when she closed her mouth, she instantly regretted it. The voices of the guards that were always present were gone for a few seconds, and then she heard them whispering to each other.

'No,' she whimpered. 'Please, not now.'

Nasuada was fast to act.

'Relath! Jarsha and Turner. Go to each of the gates as fast as you can and tell the guards there no one must enter or exit the camp.'

The three boys who had come at her command scampered out of the pavilion and she saw Relath cast an awed glance at her before he disappeared among the tents.

'I would go if I were you,' Nasuada said. 'Before you know it, there will be people all around here and you will never be able to fight your way out of the crowd.'

'You did this, Nasuada. You did this,' spat Arya, but she turned and burst out of the tent. One of the human guards cried, 'Argetlam! Why did you not tell us?' before she ran into the maze of tents and sprinted back to her own.

The elves looked up as she approached and they stood up quickly.

'Arya, what is it that upsets you?' one of the elves asked but she angrily pushed her aside and burst in. The dragon squeaked with excitement as she entered and she sat on the bed and drew him in close. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she held him tightly.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered to him. He stopped and looked into her eyes.

_Arya, what has happened?_ Glaedr asked her.

_They know. They know about him, master. I lost my temper at Nasuada and I started to shout, and then the guards outside her pavilion found out, and word is spreading._

_This was bound to happen._

_It was Nasuada, she wanted me to reveal him to the world and my anger got the better of me, so everyone now knows…._

_Do not despair, has she sent people to close all of the camp entrances?_

_Yes, she has done this._

_This puts my mind at ease then._

While she was having this conversation with Glaedr, Arya didn't notice the cat slink into the pavilion until it spoke to her.

_Enjoying the conversation without me then? Better to talk to a stone then a living being?_

Arya whipped around and saw the cat sitting on the end of her cot and she narrowed her eyes. She recognised him for what he was and had seen him before, but she was shocked about how he knew about the Eldunarí.

_Be gone, werecat, get out of my tent, and how did you know about him?_

The werecat shrugged and got to his feet.

_I am a werecat and I simply know things, things that exceed your tiny little elven brain._

Arya's anger flared and she scowled at him. The werecat eyed her coolly.

_I know of your anger, I heard you take it out on Nasuada, and I for one do not want to be on the receiving end._

_You had better not._

There was a hiss and Arya looked down to see the dragon, his wings half unfurled and a small snarl on his face. The werecat eyed him and gave him a flat stare, as if he was uninterested.

_So it's true, you are a Rider, I said as much to the other one when I met him, bumbling through the door and waking me out of my nap._

_You've met Eragon?_

_Who haven't I met? And I am very surprised you do not recognise me. We have met, but not very much._

Arya took in the werecat's appearance as she recognised him.

_What are you doing in my tent, Solembum?_

_I came to see you and that dragon of yours naturally._

The dragon's muscles were tensing as if he were getting ready to spring but Solembum ignored him and returned his gaze to Arya.

_Angela never seems to be far away from where you are, where is she?_

_Why, outside the tent of course, but those guards aren't letting her past and who would notice a cat going into a tent? I came in here to ask you if you could tell those guards to let Angela in._

_Of course. _

Arya stood up and the dragon fell off her lap and on to the floor, he was still looking at Solembum with distrust and Arya poked her head out of the tent. She saw Angela arguing with Blödhgarm a few paces in front of the tent and the short herbalist was standing on her toes to get into Blödhgarm's face.

'Let me through! I wish to see Arya!'

'She is upset and I think she doesn't wish for anyone to disturb her,' Blödhgarm replied coolly and Angela puffed out her chest.

'Well you're off skipping with the daisies, aren't you? If I were you, elf, I would look behind you and ask her for yourself.'

Blödhgarm turned to look at Arya who stood there with her hands on her hips, looking at Blödhgarm with one eyebrow raised.

'Let her pass, it is fine,' said Arya and Angela beamed, pushed past Blödhgarm and trotted over to Arya.

'Tah!' she said and disappeared inside Arya's tent. Arya, still confused, followed in after her.

The dragon had jumped up on to the cot and when Angela pushed past, he started to growl low in his throat and the herbalist stopped in the doorway, Solembum rubbing himself against her legs just as a common house cat might.

'Well, he's certainly got a strong and brave heart,' Angela commented to Arya as she came past her. She sat down on the bed and picked the dragon up. Angela sat down instantly and began rummaging around in a bag that she had brought along with her, pulling out a teapot, a flask of hot water and herbs. Then she pulled out two cups, deposited the herbs into the pot and poured some hot water into the teapot and replaced the lid.

'We just might as well make ourselves comfy if we're going to talk for a bit.' She flashed a smile at Arya who could only wonder at who would pack a teapot and supplies into a bag. One name came into mind: Angela.

'What do you wish to talk about; Solembum told me that you wished to speak to me?'

'Yes, I was on the way out of my camp, for I had spotted a rather good deposit of nightshade the other day, and when I was going past Nasuada's tent, I heard the two of you arguing, so, naturally, I had a good listen to what you were saying. You had a right yell at her and I had a very enjoyable time listening to the two of you argue, I have been wanting to do that to Nasuada for a while since she banned me from mixing my potions outside my tent, getting complaints at the "smell" or some other such nonsense,' Angela started to babble and Arya sat there and listened, smiling slightly at what the herbalist was saying. 'They've got to get used to it, that's what I say. Devote yourself to a craft, and then you might as well get used to the stink of it.

'Anyways, I heard you two arguing about a dragon of some sorts and I was getting even more curious by the second, so I listened some more. Nasuada was shouting, you were shouting and when you started screaming and the whole camp could hear you, I came to the solution that you were a Rider and that the last egg had hatched for you.'

Angela turned towards the teapot, picked it up and poured some into the two cups she had brought along and handed one to Arya. She sipped it cautiously, the tea was delicious.

'I hurried back here, but you obviously beat me to it since you elves are so fast and when the guards wouldn't let me pass, I asked Solembum to find you and tell you that I was outside waiting to talk to you, and here we are.'

Angela turned her focus to the dragon in Arya's lap and reached out a hand. He snapped at her fingers.

'He's not one of the thicker hatchlings and he is very good looking,' Angela informed Arya and she could not help but feel a prick of pride.

'This isn't the first dragon hatchling you've seen then?'

'Heavens no! I've seen my share of dragons back in the Golden days and this one, he stands out, very handsome and braver then the rest.'

The idea came back to Arya about what she had said to Glaedr earlier.

_Strong…_

'What's his name?' Angela asked and Arya made a split second decision.

'Rámir, his name is Rámir. It means strong in the ancient language.'

'Ahh! Very fitting.'

The dragon turned and looked into her eyes.

'Rámir?' she breathed and the little dragon looked up at her, his face upside down and he gave a smile, as if to say, _I like it._


	35. Chapter 35 -- Desires Close at Heart

35

**Desires Close at Heart**

_'Don't you care for my love?' she said bitterly. _

**_– Intimates: D.H. Lawrence_**

Eragon looked towards the woman who was running at him. The soldier who was kneeling down beside him got to his feet and drew his sword.

_Eragon! _Saphira cried and she roared.

The soldier charged at the woman and lifted his sword, swinging it in an arch. She lifted her knife and blocked the steel blade. She was fast and she lashed out with her feet and tripped up the soldier, making him fall to the floor and he shouted as he fell, dropping his sword and it slid off into the shadows. Now Eragon leapt up to confront the woman who came at him, the blade slashing in the air.

Eragon had no weapons; he couldn't fight with his hands because they were bound with chain and his mind was still weak from the attack Galbatorix had launched on it. He sidestepped as the woman angled the dagger towards his chest, stepping back even further as she swung at him once, twice, three times and he found himself backed up against a pillar. Trying to take a step sideways to avoid another swing of the dagger, he yelped as his foot caught on something and he fell down on to the marble floor, cracking his head on the foot of the pillar. He had slipped on the sword that the soldier had dropped before. The woman was now upon him, panting and she held the dagger high, aimed towards his chest.

Using the same tactic she had used on the soldier, Eragon lashed out at the woman with his legs and caught her and she fell forwards and landed on top of Eragon and he shouted as she landed on his shoulder.

_Eragon! _roared Saphira and he felt something gathering up in her belly and she reared onto her hind legs and touched her nose to the ceiling of her prison.

_Boom. _

The torch brackets shivered as the force echoed through the chamber.

_Boom._

Dust fell from the ceiling.

_Boom!_

The vibrations were getting louder.

A crack appeared in the floor, large; almost twenty feet long, along with a pair of claws, ripping at the marble and a roar penetrated the air. Lights flashed in front of Eragon's eyes, he might have a chance of survival.

His attacker was so startled that she looked around, her face growing pale in the torch light and finally, Eragon got to have a good look at her features. Her eyes, like his were brown, her hair was swept up into a bun and it was black. Eragon recognised her.

'Monica,' he said in a dazed voice. She whipped her head around as Saphira's snout appeared in the floor, stone flying as she hoisted the rest of her body through the hole. She unfurled her wings, swiping her tail around, her eyes blazing with fury as she saw Monica crouched over Eragon.

_Don't you dare hurt my Rider! _she screamed and lunged for Monica with her claws. Monica now screamed as Saphira lifted her up and snarled at her. Monica struggled and lifted the dagger and brought it down into one of Saphira's toes. Hissing with pain, Saphira picked her up by the back of her dress and lifted her high. Monica was crying as Saphira lifted her.

_Know this, human. I am Queen of the Heavens, the Skies and I am Saphira Brightscales, the first of the Hunters, both of the sky and land, Daughter of Vervada. My Rider is Eragon, Slayer of Shades and Ra'zac's Bane. No one, not even Galbatorix hurts my Rider, and now you shall pay, mortal._

Monica thrashed and Eragon knew what Saphira was going to do to her, just as she had done, countless times in battle. As Saphira prepared, Eragon whispered into her mind, _No._

_No? _Saphira said incredulously.

_I want to know why she did it._

_You heard what she said; she does not want us to get out of this damned castle!_

_There is another reason, I'm sure of it._

_If there is not, _then _may I kill her?_

_Of course._

Saphira replaced Monica in her hand and she growled.

_My Rider wishes to find out why you came after him with a knife in hand. Answer me!_

Monica gulped and looked at Eragon with tears in her eyes.

'I will tell you, but you yourself must tell your dragon to put me down.'

_Put her down, Saphira._

Saphira growled once more and did as Eragon asked, placing Monica on the floor where she fell to her knees, the dagger clattering out of her hand. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gulped down the air.

_Eragon! _Saphira said, coming over to him and sheltering him under one of her wings. _Your shoulder, it looks like a deep wound._

_I'll live._

_It burns like fire; you are in no fit condition to say that you are fine. You are losing blood fast._

It was true. His shoulder ached and burned every time he moved it and he placed his hand once more over the wound. He felt Galbatorix's knife plunge into his shoulder and he licked his lips.

_How did you get through the floor, Saphira? _

_I had the urge to use magic, to save you and when I touched the ceiling, it gave way and I was able to break the marble, warping the world to my liking._

That explained the feeling Saphira had had in her belly as she touched the ceiling of her chamber with her snout.

_Eragon, we have no time to sit around exchanging pleasantries, the cracking of the floor must have alerted someone. We have to get out of here as quickly as possible if we want to escape. What about her? _Saphira pointed her snout to where Monica was, still crumpled on the floor. Eragon looked towards her to and walked over to Monica and looked down on her.

'Why did you do what you did?' Eragon asked and Monica looked at him, tears sparkling in her eyes.

'To ask a request of you, Shadeslayer.'

'Which was?'

Her gaze was intense and her eyes burned.

'I know of your escape plans, and I wish to come with you.'

The question caught Eragon of guard and he staggered backwards. Monica's voice gained some confidence.

'I have been looking to get out of this castle for some time now; I was here when they bought the other Rider in and when the red dragon hatched for him, I have been the one healing his back whenever he is injured, this is why I came down to him the day the egg vanished. And when I saw you, I knew who you were and this could have been my only chance to get out of Urû'baen.

'And, there is another reason I wish to get out of this castle. I want to join the Varden, for as well as a servant; I am a spellcaster, and my stronger area is that in healing, hence why I heal Murtagh when he has been injured by the King. And…' she stuttered off with embarrassment and Saphira was waving her tail.

_As I said before, we have no time to stand around and chat, we have to get out of here soon if we plan to get out, which I assume we are._

_True but first, I need to get these manacles off! And then acquire a weapon._

_Why don't you ask her? _Saphira said with distaste.

_You don't like her then?_

_I am suspicious of her, why did she not give all of her reasons about why she wanted to accompany us?_

_I don't know, but as long as we are alone, we have no chance of escaping. We need as much help as possible._

_I fear that you are right. We must hurry, we don't have much time._

Eragon nodded and ran towards the soldier who was partly buried under a pile of rubble. Eragon started to dig him out, ignoring the pain from his shoulder and he felt someone touch him from behind. He whirred around, readying to fight but it was only Monica.

'As I said, I specialise in healing so will you let me heal your shoulder?'

'I'm fine.'

'I can tell that you are not.'

Before Eragon could stop her, she laid her right hand on his shoulder and whispered, 'Waíse heill.'

The skin began to crawl and itch and when the itching ceased, so did the pain.

'Thank you,' murmured Eragon and he returned his attention towards digging out the soldier. The work was much easier now that his shoulder had been healed and Eragon worked fast, hardly stopping until it was easy enough to drag him out of the rest of the pile.

'Bless you, Shadeslayer,' he whispered and Monica flew to his side, looking him up and down for signs of injury and when she found something, she cut away the soldier's clothes where it was permitted by the armour.

'What is your name?' Eragon heard Monica whisper to him and he smiled at her with cracked lips.

''Tis Robert, fair lady.'

Monica smiled and resumed her work whist Eragon ran towards Saphira.

_Were you hurt when you broke through the ceiling?_

_No, now that your shoulder has been healed, I am fine._

Eragon smiled and pressed his forehead against hers.

_I am glad that we are together again._

_And so am I, little one, so am I._

'Eragon,' Monica whispered. 'We should get out of here as fast as we can, the more time we dawdle, the less chance we have of escape.' She looked down at his wrists and frowned when she saw the chains and her brow wrinkled with concentration.

'Can you break them?' Eragon asked.

'Shh!'

There was silence for a few seconds.

'Jierda,' she whispered. There was a small spark and the chain broke. Now that Eragon could move his hands and arms to their fullest extent, there was a new problem that presented itself: he needed a weapon, a sword. He needed Brisingr back. Eragon turned to Monica.

'I need a sword, preferably my own weapon back. I don't know if you know it but both the blade and the sheath are blue with a black wooden hilt.'

Monica bit her lip and looked at Eragon. For a second, he was scared that she didn't know, that he would never see his sword again, but she walked to the throne and beckoned.

Sidestepping a piece of marble, Eragon followed her around the steps and behind the dais that the throne was set on to see Monica wrestling with the lock on an ironbound door. A small spark jumped from her finger and coiled around the iron ring and it seeped into the lock underneath it. When the light flickered and died, Monica pushed against the door. It didn't budge. Eragon stepped forwards and examined the door, pressing his right hand against the lock whist searching for an entrance. He yelped and swore when the metal burned white hot, there was a click and the door swung open. Monica was amazed.

'Why did the door respond to your touch?'

Eragon looked down at his palm and the gedwëy ignasia glowed dully and Eragon flexed his hand and closed it before Monica could have a good stare at his palm. Eragon pushed forwards cautiously and gasped.

Swords. Swords of every shape, size and colour ran along the walls of the corridor which stretched into the gloom and Eragon walked forwards to examine the sword on his left. It was a buttercup yellow, the blade slightly curved and the black symbol set into the scabbard read: Gedwëy. Shining.

'These all belonged to Riders once,' murmured Eragon, walking along the corridor with Monica following him, looking at the swords with awe. There were swords of every hue of the rainbow here: ice blue, moss green, cold silver, mud brown and bloody red. Eragon was amazed at the swords, admiring Rhunön's handy work that she crafted over the hundreds of years. He kept his eye out for Brisingr, starting a few times when he saw a blue sword and reaching out for it, only to discover it was the wrong blade. Not only did he keep an eye out Brisingr, he also kept an eye out for Brom's sword, Undbitr, this was a perfect opportunity to look for his father's blade but his main concern was finding Brisingr first.

_Hurry, Eragon. We don't have long. I would just concentrate on looking for your sword if I were you and not waste time looking for Undbitr, _urged Saphira. Eragon could feel how skittish she was, starting at the slightest noise and her only company was the soldier, Robert whose sword was drawn and he was positioned by the door.

_This might be the only chance I will ever get._

_I understand, but getting out of here alive is more important than looking for Brom's sword._

Eragon knew Saphira was right and with her words, he paid more attention to finding Brisingr.

The corridor stretched on forever and after a few minutes of walking, Eragon spotted the end of the corridor and on the far wall were two swords; sapphire blue and blood red: Brisingr and Zar'roc. Eragon ran forwards and snatched Brisingr off the wall, cradling the sword in his arms and he looked up at Zar'roc. It was just sitting there, the sword which he had received from Brom, which he had slew Durza with, brought to Ellesméra and used against Murtagh on the Burning Plains. Morzan's sword, the sword that Murtagh now used. He remembered his half-brother's words from the Burning Plains: _"It is only right, then, that I should also wield the sword_ Misery. _Misery and Thorn, a fit match. Besides, Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's eldest son, not his youngest. It is mine by right of birth."_

Should Eragon take Zar'roc back, take back the sword that was rightfully his? Now Rhunön's words echoed in his mind.

_"The sword has found its rightful owner, then."_

'Eragon? We need to get out of here.' Monica's voice jolted Eragon out of his memories and he buckled on the sword, glad to once more have the familiar weight on his hip.

'Yes, we should go.'

They both ran full pelt up the tunnel, Eragon out running Monica in seconds and he soon arrived back at the door, rushing around the throne's dais and his heart thudded into his mouth when he came around the corner. Five more soldiers stood before him, and Robert had joined their ranks.

Eragon drew Brisingr and marched forwards.

'I trusted you,' he said to Robert, but he threw up his arms.

'Shadeslayer! Do not attack! These are the men I travelled to the capital with.'

Eragon didn't lower the weapon until a voice said in the ancient language: 'He speaks the truth, please lower your weapon.'

Eragon snapped his gaze to the man who had spoken.

'Why?' he said in the same tongue.

'Because he is an honest man and I trust him.'

'But I do not trust you.'

'He is part of the Varden and is not part of the Empire, and neither am I, or anyone here.'

Eragon lowered Brisingr slightly but he didn't lower his guard until he saw Saphira walk past them and towards him, completely ignoring them and she touched him on the arm.

_Relax, I have spoken to them in the ancient language and I trust them._

_Are you sure?_

_Quite sure, little one._

Eragon returned his gaze towards the soldiers and sheathed Brisingr. He walked forwards and there were quick mutterings of: 'Shadeslayer,' and 'Argetlam.'

'Hail, Shadeslayer!' one of the men said in a low voice and knelt before Eragon, quickly straightening up again.

'Atra esterní ono thelduin,' Eragon murmured.

'I am Fembor and these are my men; Darl, Alrad, Robert who you have met, Owar and Harwin.' When mentioning the archer's name, Eragon looked around to see Harwin looking at him loyally and it was then he trusted them.

'I need to repay you for your kindness, Argetlam,' whispered Harwin and Eragon nodded.

'I'm glad I could help you on the Burning Plains,' Eragon said, then turned his gaze towards Fembor. 'Is there a plan for getting out of the capital?'

'Yes, a rough one but as long as we're quick and don't attract too much attention, we should be fine.'

'Then I want to hear what your plan is.'

_And we also need to leave quickly, _added Saphira. _Information has been pried from both of our minds and the King plans to make his next move tonight which could result in our loss._

'Then we are indeed pressed for time,' Fembor said dryly.

'That bastard said sunrise, sunrise is our deadline,' Eragon told them and they nodded grimly.

'Sunrise,' murmured one of them, Owar Eragon remembered and he looked towards Fembor. 'We were looking for a couple of hours; it's got to be close to midnight now.'

'Then we had better get moving.'

There were footsteps and Eragon turned to find an out of breath Monica emerging from the door. Darl raised his hands and Alrad drew his sword but Eragon said to them, 'Don't, she is a friend.'

Darl lowered his hands and Alrad slid his sword back into his scabbard, but part of the blade was still exposed.

'Gather around, this is our plan,' Fembor said and they huddled closer together. 'Harwin will shoot a few arrows at the guards on the wall and while they are distracted, Eragon and Saphira will fly up and fast and escape that way. The rest of us will go down to the stables and pick up our horses and during the confusion, we slip out of the main gate. Eragon, you and Saphira had better fly straight to the Varden and their current position-' Fembor pulled out a map and unrolled it showing Alagaësia and pointed to a spot halfway between Feinster and Belatona. '-is here. You should go straight to Nasuada as well; she's been fretting so much. She sent us a message this afternoon to ask for updates and I told her we should be getting out tonight.'

'I don't know about this,' Eragon said. 'This plan of yours is very risky and if one thing goes the wrong way, we fail.'

'It's the best we've got at the moment,' sighed Fembor.

Saphira tensed then and swung her head around.

_Someone's coming, and it sounds like a lot of someone's, you had better get going now if you want this plan of yours to work._

'Aye,' Darl agreed and he and Harwin hurried over to the door, Harwin had a bow in hand and Saphira got up and crouched down, facing the door and her tail flicking.

'If they come in here, everyone get out as fast as you can, we will only have one shot at this and follow my command!'

'Eragon,' Monica whispered, grabbing his arm before he could pull away. Her grip was vice like and Eragon knew he could have easily escaped it but he stayed and looked into Monica's eyes. 'I-I wanted to tell you, when you were alone, is that the reason I want to come with you is, is, because I love you, Eragon.'

Eragon was dumbstruck and he stared at Monica.

'What?'

'I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, for are so handsome and your heart is true, you are so kind and gentle, yet so ferocious in battle.'

'No.' Eragon once again tried to pull away, but Monica then grabbed his other arm.

'Let us spend the rest of lives together, I shall sire you many a child, cook you your meals and do all of your housework all in the name of love.'

'I cannot, Monica. I cannot. Even if I did love you in return, I am immortal and whist you will age and die, I shall remain like this, and I cannot accept your offer, for my heart belongs to another.'

'Do you not care for me? Do you not return my love?' she cried. 'Please, please. This is the only reason I want to escape Urû'baen, so I can spend the rest of my life with you!'

'No,' said Eragon sadly. 'For I in return do not love you.'

'They're going past! They're going past! They ain't stopping in here!' Robert cried, relieved. Monica returned her gaze to Eragon and her eyes burned with determination.

'I will scream for help if you deny me, so those soldiers will come running in.'

'If you love me, then do not. We will get you out of Urû'baen, but your heart is not destined for me. There are many men out there who will seek your heart and your love, but not I, I do not seek for your love.'

Monica's eyes were wide and before Eragon or anyone else could silence her, she let out a scream.


	36. Chapter 36 -- Hanging in Balance

36

**Hanging in Balance**

_"You are bound to do my will."_

_"I am." I had to hand it to him, he was very determined._

**_– The Amulet of Samarkand: Jonathan Stroud_**

_"His hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him."_

_ **– Unknown source**_

As soon as the scream escaped Monica's lips, Eragon heard the footsteps from the soldiers passing outside the throne room stop. Eragon clamped a hand over Monica's mouth and she bit at his fingers. Eragon did not let go of her chin, ignoring the pain it brought. She wrestled with his grip but Eragon listened, listened to the footsteps outside the door as they came to a stop outside the wooden door.

Eragon drew Brisingr and Saphira tensed her muscles, looking at Monica and her teeth were bared.

_I told you we could not trust her!_

_I thought we could, but she ruined her chance to get out._

_I should have killed her!_

_Kill her later when we get out of here!_

'The damage is done,' whispered Monica. 'I will do anything to keep you with me. I came after you with a knife to show you how brave I was, charging a soldier and Rider on my own with a knife, not a sword or an axe. And to show you I will go to the extreme to impress you.'

Eragon ignored her and padded forwards with Brisingr drawn level with his chest. Eragon heard Alrad's breathing increase as he pulled up beside him.

'It can't be. It just can't. It was only a dream,' he whispered to himself, terrified and his sword trembled.

Eragon snapped his eyes towards Alrad.

'What did you say? You saw this scene in your sleep?'

Alrad gave one of the smallest nods and Eragon saw fear in his eyes. Eragon knew that these things were possible, for he had done just that when rafting on the Az Ragni towards Ellesméra, he had seen the future, he had seen himself on the Burning Plains when he was facing Murtagh, but he had brushed this dream aside, thinking that it wasn't important. He knew better now. He had thought that these dreams only came to him through his bond with Saphira, that it was her magic that showed him this; he was wearier now with this news.

'Alrad, tell me what happened, you must.'

'Shadeslayer! Not now! We need to defend ourselves!' said Fembor in a low voice.

'This is important! It could be our only chance of getting out of here safely.'

'Argetlam, I must insist-'

Eragon put a finger to his lips and Fembor went quiet. Saphira froze, her nose twitching and she flexed her claws and lowered herself to the ground.

'When the door opens, get outside straight away. Shadeslayer, you and Brightscales should fly as soon as you clear the door. You're the one we need to get out of here, like it or not, we aren't as important as you two. The Varden won't miss us, but they will miss the both of you.'

Eragon looked at Fembor with amazement.

'Every life: elven, human, dwarven or urgal is important, not just to be thrown away. I will go with Saphira if that is the only option. I will stay as long as I can for all of you are brave men.'

'And her?' Harwin asked, jabbing the end of his bow at Monica who cowered down against a pillar. Eragon sighed.

'Yes, even her.'

_The only reason she is coming along is to be my dinner later, _Saphira put in, licking her chops at the same time and Eragon gave a small smile.

He stiffened again as a voice shouted, 'Who's in there? Who screamed?'

Eragon tightened his grip on Brisingr, his eyes never leaving the door.

'Hello?' the voice said.

Footsteps began coming towards the door.

'Don't bother yerself, probably one of 'em poor buggers that the King is torturing,' another one grunted.

'Poor buggers,' someone echoed.

'Still, even if it might be one of them souls, they've got that _Dragon Rider_ in there and if someone is in there with 'im, I wouldn't want ta brave the King's displeasure. You heard what happened to Freydon?'

The others grumbled and there were small mutterings of, 'Aye.'

Eragon's eyebrows furrowed, the way that they had said Dragon Rider, sarcastically, he would show them what kind of Dragon Rider he was and make them think twice before talking about him such.

'Should we check to be safe?'

'No 'arm in that.'

'He'll be too weak to move, with the rumours I've been 'earing.'

'No 'arm.'

'Aye.'

The door started to creak open and Harwin knocked an arrow into his bow, aimed, and fired. It whistled through the air and buried itself behind the soldier's left eye who had opened the door to investigate. He fell back with a cry and there was muttering from outside.

'Come out of the King's throne room!' another voice bellowed. There was a boom and the door swung open to reveal thirty soldiers waiting outside and Eragon charged. Saphira roared and pounced and there were cries of alarm and fear as she leapt at them. Saphira whirled around and opened her jaws, a stream of crackling fire coming from her maw and several soldiers screamed in pain. An alarm bell started to toll and Eragon ran forwards, cutting down two soldiers in front of him and he jumped over them.

'Quickly!' Fembor roared and they advanced from the doorway and into the open courtyard. Saphira was swinging her tail, hissing and growling and as her tail passed overhead, it knocked against the statue of Galbatorix and sent his head flying. Eragon could help feeling a little bit calmer when Saphira did this and she grinned at him.

'Shadeslayer! You must fly while you have the chance!' Darl said but Eragon cut his hand through the air.

'No! I will not leave you!'

'You must, look!'

Eragon swung around and watched in dismay as more soldiers began running out of side corridors, naked swords in hands and Saphira hissed. Harwin drew his bow and shot three soldiers quickly and Fembor swung his sword left and right, the blade becoming laced in blood.

Some of the soldiers, Eragon saw, would be downed by one or two strokes from Brisingr whist others fought on. Eragon, at one point, found himself face to face with a soldier who looked no different from the others, but when Eragon stepped forwards and stabbed the man through the gut twice and smashed in his nose with his elbow. With Eragon's elven strength (although he was still weak from the drug, hunger and lack of exercise), the man's nose caved in and an gurgling laugh started to issue from his throat, blood running down his face and he raised his sword to strike Eragon down. He heard a whistling sound and swayed backwards as if he was doing the limbo and an arrow buried itself behind the soldier's left eye and the laughter ceased.

But, as always, it was Saphira who was noticed first. Her wings were slightly flared in order to intimidate but not wide enough to allow arrows to easily puncture the membrane. She was swiping left and right with her talons, now stained a deep blood red and now and now again, the fire she drew from her gut would leap forwards and smoother the Empire's soldiers and reduce arrows to soot.

The air was thick with arrows and even if Eragon and Saphira wanted to fly, they couldn't for the arrows, Saphira would surely be hit. It wasn't worth the risk.

Arrows were flying everywhere, mostly belonging to the Empire for the band only had two archers among them, Harwin and Owar, and both were fast running out of arrows. It was only Darl's enchantments that shielded them from arrows. Eragon dimly noticed Monica had disappeared, either staying in the King's throne room or she had made a run for it, he didn't know and he didn't care, his main concern was getting himself and Saphira out of Urû'baen alive. He looked past his next four opponents and saw in dismay the many soldiers whom awaited their own turns to fight either him or one of the others. Some had determined looks on their faces, others frightened and still others had maniacal grins. Eragon knew it was the ones with grins that he had to look out for, for these were the painless soldiers and he now made a point of aiming his sword strokes at soldiers heads, decapitating them, smashing Brisingr's pommel into their temples and the force from the twisted claws of brightsteel and the sapphire itself was enough to end their lives.

The mass of soldiers started to thin out and Eragon let a small laugh escape him, maybe they would get out, just maybe if Murtagh and Thorn didn't show up but then something else crossed his mind; what if the King himself on Shruikan came out to attack and intercept them? Eragon realised that his and Saphira's only chances then was her size and speed, Shruikan would be slow because of his immense size, but then a memory came back to him. Glaedr's speed when, when…Eragon didn't want to think about it, but when Glaedr, in his anger had snapped at Thorn's tail, biting it off, his great speed then. And of when Glaedr had caught that woodrat when he had taken Eragon and Saphira out for one of their many lessons in Ellesméra, the speed at which Glaedr had caught and killed it.

It was when the soldiers started to thin out when the first thing went wrong.

A stray arrow nipped past Darl's wards and a scream of pain pierced the night. Eragon saw Robert fall out of the corner of his eye, an arrow through the upper part of his thigh. Eragon span around and, with a single blow, decapitated three soldiers and he sprinted across to Robert.

_Eragon! We don't have time! We need to concentrate on fighting! _Saphira screamed at him whist incinerating a line of soldiers before turning towards them quickly. Eragon ignored her but Robert got shakily to his feet.

'Please, Shadeslayer. Please go,' Robert said, getting a firm grip on the arrow shaft and then, with a cry of pain, broke the shaft and slid the rest out of his leg. New blood splattered on the floor and Robert gasped, standing upright on shaking legs and he looked at Eragon through watering eyes. 'Go, Shadeslayer. I beg you, go!'

Eragon nodded and turned to fight again. Eragon saw Alrad shaking as he looked at Robert and he shook his head slightly, as if he were clearing it and he returned to fighting off opponents, gaining a slash on his side in the process due to how he had been previously distracted. Eragon yelled and slashed at the soldier, opening his stomach and watching, slightly disgusted, as all of his guts spilled out and onto the floor. He cried out in agony and sank to the floor and Eragon leapt over him. Robert side stepped him and began to limp forwards, clutching his leg and gaining speed so he was finally taking a limping run. More soldiers were pouring in, determined to stop them escaping and Saphira hissed, blasting them with a torrent of fire, the heat of it searing Eragon's face and he squinted in the bright light.

'Go! Get to the horses!' Robert yelled, tears streaming down his face and Alrad stopped to help him.

'Don't you give up on us!' he shouted, draping one of his arms around Robert's shoulders and started to haul him along. Robert looked stunned but he didn't complain, stabbing a soldier through the gut in the process and he shook the corpse off the blade.

And then the second thing went wrong.

Darl's wards were getting weaker by the second and another arrow pierced the shields of protection. It span towards Owar who barely had time to look around before the head buried itself in his chest. He dropped his bow in surprise, a small 'Oh' of astonishment gracing his face and he toppled to the ground.

'Owar!' Robert screamed and Eragon felt anger rising within him; Owar locked eyes with him, his breath shallow and one last breath escaped his body before he died, his eyes becoming glassy. Robert was fighting against Alrad but Alrad kept a tight grip on him.

Eragon felt anger consuming him and he cried out, 'He was a good and honest man! Whose arrow this is, I know not, but this shall not go unpunished!'

'You can't do anything for him,' Alrad said softly.

Robert stopped struggling, the angry tears in his eyes spilling over as he took one last look at his friend before muttering, 'So be it.'

He turned back towards the Empire's soldiers and shook off Alrad's hand, swinging his sword with fury and taking down a great amount of soldiers amassed in front of him.

'He didn't deserve to die!' and shrieked, swing his sword in a backhanded blow and taking down four soldiers, tears still streaming down his face as he choked back a sob before swinging the sword again. 'For my friend was brave and true! Who will never have the chance to have a family because of what you have done, taking an innocent man's life!'

Eragon watched amazed as Robert killed man after man, soldier after soldier such was his hurt of Owar's loss. Eragon also fought with ferocity, he hadn't known Owar for long, fifteen minutes at most but he was grieved by his loss; and his eyes when he had died, almost as if he was conveying a message to Eragon which he thought he understood: _Go._

Robert forgot the pain lancing up his leg for a new pain filled him, one which he had experienced when the Empire brought his family news of Ari's death and he hoped to never feel again. The hole in his chest which had opened when Ari died had almost healed, but when Robert looked down at Owar's body, it had been torn open again. He slashed and hacked, wanting to hurt the soldiers who took away Owar's life, to continue hurting them for every breath that they stole from Owar and he felt he could bring pain to the soldiers who felt none, until they kneeled before him, begging for mercy.

Eragon danced on light feet and several times, he came face to face with a man and he would collapse, dead at his feet before Eragon could even take a swing. The Empire apparently didn't care for its own soldiers for the archers on top of the walls were shooting their own as well as shooting at Eragon, Saphira and the others. Others times was when Darl's magic was held responsible and Eragon could see for every spell he cast, he was getting weaker, both physically and mentally. He swung his sword slowly and his eyelids were drooped and Eragon could see he was fighting with himself to stay awake. Robert was still up front, continuing with his berserker attack and soldiers were falling to him left and right.

This was when the third thing went wrong.

Darl was exhausted, his sword was hanging down by his side and his arms were shaking. He locked eyes with one of the soldiers and raised his hand. Eragon saw this and shouted at Darl.

'No! Don't!'

But it was too late. Darl released his magic and the soldier crumpled, but so did Darl. Fembor turned and saw Darl lying on the ground and he sprinted over to Darl's side, crouching down to check his pulse on his neck.

Nothing.

Fembor let go of the body, tears in his eyes and he turned towards the fight again, a yell coming from his throat as he slashed and cleaved a soldier in two.

And then the soft laughter started drowning out the laughter from the painless soldiers. Saphira faltered half way through a roar and she swung her head around, looking for the source of the sound. They all did, all of them knowing who the laughter belonged to and the Empire's soldiers pressed in on them.

'Fly! You must fly, Shadeslayer, Brightscales!' Fembor shouted at Eragon and he looked around, knowing that there was nothing he could do for them. They were going to be picked off one by one and Eragon knew that the only reason they had come to the capital was to rescue him and Saphira. Saphira couldn't carry all of them and Eragon came to the only sensible conclusion: he would have to leave the others behind.

Saphira covered him as he ran towards her, stabbing a couple of soldiers to get to her and he leapt, light as a feather, onto her back. He looked over at the others and said to Saphira, _Help me for a minute._

_What are you going to do?_ she asked, snapping at a soldier and biting him in half in the process.

_Express_ _my thanks to them._

Saphira didn't reply and extended her consciousness out to Robert, Fembor, Alrad and Harwin.

_You shall never be forgotten,_ he said.

Saphira looked skywards, crouched and raised her wings and took off. She strained at the air and her wings rose and fell fast. Eragon could feel her delight at being able to fly again but this feeling was over powered by her amount of fear. The laughter increased in volume. Eragon held Brisingr upright to avoid harming Saphira as she soared out over Urû'baen, desperately heading for the wall and she hissed as a few arrows caught her wings, opening even more holes to accompany the ones that were there from the battle she had had with Thorn five weeks ago.

_Go, Saphira! Go!_ Eragon roared and she strained even harder. Eragon turned to see the palace behind him and he could still make out the screams from the men over the rushing air.

_We're going to make it!_ Saphira said delightedly.

She spoke too soon though.

In front of her, a shadow rose, coal black and it buffeted Saphira with its wings. She dived, intending to nip under it and as she tilted her nose to direct her flight towards the horizon once more, a tail came out from nowhere and it took Saphira all of her skill to dodge it.

_Shruikan!_ Eragon yelled and Saphira hissed. This was the first time either of them had seen the hulking black dragon and Eragon was blown away by his size.

He was slightly bigger than Glaedr, probably due to Galbatorix's spells and his eyes were pools of shadow. A humongous scar stretched across his muzzle and Eragon saw he was missing one of his back toes. His wings were full of holes, showing Galbatorix's lack of care he showed towards the black dragon and dark fire flickered in his maw.

A saddle had been strapped to Shruikan's back and on that saddled sat the King, his purple sword, Blödhald, unsheathed and glittering in the light cast by the moon. He contemplated Eragon and Saphira before lowering his sword and pointing it at the two of them.

'You cannot escape me, Eragon, Saphira,' he said. He had magically magnified his voice and it shook like thunder. Saphira pulled up and roared at the King. 'I have been in your mind, walked among your memories, and I have discovered much, and what was now hidden to me is nearly clear. For long I have sat and thought, and I have found my answer.'

_No!_ Saphira screamed.

'Saphira, get away from him!' Eragon shouted.

_Gladly._

She made to dodge again but the King tilted his head and whispered a spell under his breath. Saphira came to a stop in the air and Eragon felt a sense of doom coming across him. The battle below in the palace had slowed down too. Soldiers swung their swords in slow motion, arrows flew through the air at a walking pace and spears halted in mid throw and arched downwards slowly as if fighting their way through honey. Galbatorix turned his eyes back towards Eragon and Saphira and she lashed her tail helplessly and she struggled to fly, but fly she could not. Galbatorix chuckled before he continued.

'Many have fought and died for you, and I will tell you whom they fought for: a false hope, a hope so small that the flame that once was is now a dying spark, and I will soon extinguish that small ember from the world,' he said slowly and his eyes glittered.

'You lie!' someone roared from below and Eragon made out Alrad's voice. Galbatorix chuckled.

'I do not lie, Alrad Verconsson. I never lie, and I will show you now that my words are true.'

He turned back to Eragon and Saphira and Eragon dimly noticed a horseman exiting the city and hastening out of the gate at top speed.

'I have pondered this long and deeply and now I shall show you, Brisingr Eld Moi and Manin Nama.'

Eragon and Saphira stopped struggling and Eragon howled as he felt something, something deep in his mind and his body lurching out, binding both him and Saphira to Galbatorix. The force of this crashed down on him and he sagged on Saphira's back and let out another howl, filled with sorrow, filled with anger and filled with loss. Saphira screamed herself and Galbatorix laughed, the sound high and cold. His spell loosened its hold on the both of them and Saphira flapped her wings to stay aloft. Her head was low and she was panting softly, growling and whimpering. Eragon sobbed and shook.

_Oh, Saphira, _he moaned. _I am so sorry._

_I am, for it was my fault that Galbatorix found out that Brom was your father. If I had only been stronger-_

_Don't you ever say that it was your fault, never._

_I only say it because it was._

_No, it was not yours, it was Monica's._

Saphira growled at the mention of her name.

_The next time I see her…_

Galbatorix had been watching this silently, a triumphant look in his eyes.

'You will follow me, now.'

He swung Shruikan around and the great dragon dived towards the courtyard below where the soldiers had backed the four Varden agents against a wall and they were fighting for their lives, the spell had loosened when Galbatorix said Eragon and Saphira's true names. They both landed in the palace grounds, heads low and Galbatorix called for the fighting to cease. The Empire drew back and Fembor looked up to see and Eragon and Saphira standing behind Galbatorix and realisation crashed into him.

'No!' he bellowed, swinging his sword at the King in a deadly arch but Galbatorix drew Blödhald once more and swung at Fembor, parrying in the blow and before Fembor could recover, Galbatorix lashed out and decapitated him. Fembor's head hit the floor and his body soon followed afterwards. Robert sucked in his breath as he saw his leader fall. Galbatorix chuckled and turned back to Eragon.

'These men have caused me a lot of trouble, I want them dispersed of. All except one. Bring that one to me.'

Eragon didn't move, he was fighting with himself and Galbatorix glowered disapprovingly.

'I said, now, Brisingr Eld Moi.'

Eragon's feet carried him forwards and his brain screamed at them to stop but they ignored his commands as Eragon fought for control of his body. Brisingr flashed in his hand as stabbed once, twice and came to the neck of the third man who stood there, quivering. Eragon looked him up and down recognising him as Robert. Robert was looking at his fallen friends, Harwin and Alrad, each slain by a single sword thrust.

'Shadeslayer,' he whispered and Eragon forced his thick tongue to form words.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. He controls me now.'

Eragon marched him forward, grabbing his hair and forcing him to his knees in front of the King who tucked Blödhald under Robert's chin.

'Go with a message to the Varden. Say that Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales are mine; mine to do whatever I please with them. Tell them to hand over the egg or the dragon and his Rider and I will not spill another drop of Varden blood. Tell them to submit to me and I shall leave Surda in peace, as their own country but under my command. Go now, and tell your leaders of this message.'

Galbatorix kicked Robert in the chest and he slid backwards and into one of the marble walls, hitting his head on the marble. Dazed, he stood, casting one final glance back at Eragon, Saphira, Owar, Alrad, Harwin, Fembor and Galbatorix before he ran.

Far away, Arya opened her eyes and sobbed, tears leaking down her cheeks and Rámir stirred, looking up at her. Arya reached for him and he fluttered his wings and came over to her. She sat upright and gave a shaking sob.

'Oh, Eragon,' she moaned and Rámir, sensing her distress, began to hum quietly. 'Don't you ever leave me, Rámir. Never.'

* * *

Brisingr Eld Moi - Fire Changer

Manin Nama - Memory Name


	37. Chapter 37 -- Scars of the Past

37

**Scars of the Past**

_'But it wasn't an ordinary dream…it was real…I saw it happen…' _

**_– Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: J.K. Rowling_**

"What?" Nasuada blustered. Arya wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and she took a shaking breath.

"You heard me, Nasuada. I knew that these dreams were not conjured out of my imagination. They are real; I feel the truth of it in my bones."

"I refuse to believe it. I refuse."

Arya slammed her hands onto the table top.

'And why not? Why do you not take my warning seriously? Eragon and Saphira have fallen, this I am sure of and I hate the situation just as much as you. Of course I am wishing that it did not happen, that it is just a dream which means nothing. Contact Fembor if you wish to, but believe me, he is dead, only one member of that party you sent out to Urû'baen is alive and he is hastening back here.'

Nasuada bristled with anger and she stood up, her white nightgown flowing out behind her.

'Arya, I am tired and I wish that you had not called me out of bed in the middle of the night. I have no time to be scrying people now, for I did that only yesterday and Fembor had nothing much to report, apart from that Harwin and Robert had been dragged off to who knows where.'

'You stubborn woman!' Arya screamed at her. 'Do not take my warning light heartedly, thinking you can go back to bed and everything will be alright. Nasuada, if you want to win this war, I suggest you listen to people.'

Nasuada fumed and swiped at a stack of reports in front of her, sending them toppling to the floor.

'I am not to be spoken to like that! And I am constantly listening to people these days.'

Arya laughed and threw her hands up into the air.

'Are you saying that since you are constantly listening to advice that you will not listen to mine?'

Arya had begun to pace back and forth and Nasuada's chest swelled, obviously just keeping control of her temper.

'No, I am just saying that the advice I listen to has evidence behind it. This…theory that you have come up with-'

'Theory?!' Arya shouted.

'-has no strong evidence behind it,' continued Nasuada, a vein starting to pulse on her forehead.

'You are afraid to face the truth; that is what is really happening!'

Now it was Nasuada who slapped the table top in her anger. 'How dare you!'

'You are afraid,' Arya spat, turning on her heel and she marched towards the exit. 'Ponder my words please, Nasuada. Eragon and Saphira are in grave danger.'

Arya burst out and the sleepy Nighthawks started, standing to attention and there were quick mutterings of, 'Shadeslayer,' and 'Argetlam.'

She ignored them and marched back to her tent, fuming. It was her worry that was making her act like this. She knew it to be true in her gut and she wiped tears away from her eyes.

_First my father, then my mother, Fäolin, Glenwing, Oromis, Glaedr, and now Eragon and Saphira, who next? Who is the next person I will lose? _The first person that came to mind was Rámir but she pushed it away. Not Rámir, she vowed to herself there and then that no one would tear Rámir from her, no one. Thinking of the little dragon, she entered her tent and Rámir squeaked when she came in and flew at her delightedly. She caught him and staggered at his weight. He was twice the size he had been when he had hatched last week and she put him down quickly so he crawled into her lap, curled up and yawned. Looking at him, Arya judged him to nearly as high as her knee now and she swallowed.

_Master, how fast do dragons grow?_

Glaedr's thoughts stirred from what had been brooding on before: Oromis. He thought for a moment, his mind brushing against Rámir's as he half heartedly cleaned his claws.

_Quite explosively, when I was young, Oromis always used to say how fast I grew after I had hatched. How big is he now?_

_He's about as high as my knee now, master._

_That should be about right. In two weeks, he'll be about chest height._

_What? _Arya was flabbergasted, how could something as small as Rámir grow so fast in such a small space of time?

_It's around that time he'll be able to form a few words, not much, but enough to communicate with you._

Arya raised an eyebrow and Rámir rolled over in her lap, showing his belly and Arya started to scratch it slightly. A small humming filled the tent as Arya flexed her fingers over the hard scales.

_The first thing I said apparently was "Ow",' _said Glaedrand Arya laughed.

_Why did you say "Ow"?'_

_Because Oromis trod on my tail, jumping a foot in the air in the process and landing on me out of surprise._

Arya gave a smile. She couldn't imagine the two of them doing that, seeing how wise and calm they had always been when she had been with them, or even seen them. Glaedr chuckled.

_Why did you go to Nasuada at this hour? I am curious. For you took off in the dead of night without waking Rámir or notifying me._

Arya choked and new tears came to her eyes now and she closed them and the scene replayed over in her head:

_Saphira was flying, flying as fast as she could from a courtyard below her where Arya could hear the clashing of weapons and the screams of dying men. It wasn't long before a shadow rose up in front of the moon which Saphira tried to dodge around, but she came to a standstill in midair and she hung there for a few seconds while the King's voice boomed out from the back of the black dragon. At the end of his thunderous speech, he lowered his voice and said those words, words of power. There was a moment of silence then a howl pierced the night and a withering scream._

Rámir looked back at Arya with confusion in his eyes, for he had seen the dream across their link. Glaedr's thoughts whirled as Arya showed him the dream and one word resonated through his mind: No.

_He will now join Murtagh in the King's service, _Glaedr said wretchedly. _To become a new generation of Wyrdfell._

_ But not only that, _Arya suddenly realised.

_What?_

_If Rámir is male-_

There was no need for Arya to finish as this sunk in. Glaedr's Eldunarí flashed a thousand different shades of gold in a wild colour display.

_We cannot let this happen._

_We can't stop Galbatorix from doing this._

_Do not give up so easily, they can be saved._

_Look at what happened to the last rescue party! Not only that, but Galbatorix knows not only Eragon's but Saphira's true names now, they are at his mercy._

Glaedr sighed and Arya could feel bottled up anger rising in his mind.

_I hope that Galbatorix does not take the obvious path for controlling them, both of them through different methods, but they will both ensure Eragon and Saphira's absolute obedience._

Arya felt her stomach crawl at the mention of these and Rámir stopped wriggling to look up at Arya.

_What are these methods, master? _Arya asked slowly and Glaedr refocused his attention on her.

_Why do you wish to know this?_

_So I can be prepared for when I have to face Eragon and Saphira in the future, so I can bring them back over to our side._

Glaedr rumbled his agreement and he started to speak:

_This...this is a painful subject for me, but did Eragon and Saphira tell you how...how Oromis died?_

Arya swallowed before replying, _No, master. He did not._

_The wound Oromis suffered, he...his back was slashed open by Murtagh, from shoulder to hip._

_Like Eragon and Murtagh._

_Right. The wound that Durza inflicted was not by chance, he was ordered to do it, to do it so Galbatorix could control him, and through him, Saphira._

_How does a scar let Galbatorix control another being?_

Glaedr sighed.

_I must go back in time now, back to when Galbatorix first entered his madness when his dragon was slain. Defending his life, he suffered a terrible wound, a wound that nearly killed him and would have been better for us all if it had. When he heard his dragon cry out in agony when an arrow pierced her heart and Galbatorix lost his concentration, an Urgal cut open his back from his neck all the way down his back, ending at his left hip. _

_The Urgal left him to die and turned on another Rider but with his remaining strength, Galbatorix stood and killed him, ignoring the pain his back brought and finished the Urgals. Hurrying to his dragon, he had no choice but to watch her die. He was ignorant of the Eldunarí then, but if he knew of them, maybe this war would have never started. So after Jarnunvösk died, he had to get back to the Riders, such was his desire to get another dragon. When a farmer found him, collapsed and ill, this was mostly due to his back and when the Riders took him away and healed him, they found that they couldn't heal his back, for the weapon which had done the damage had been enchanted so no such wound could be healed and this formed into a scar._

Arya digested the information and suddenly, things started to fall into place.

_So Murtagh, when he was child? I would bet that that scar on his back was no accident._

_Quite right, and this leads to the next part of my story, _Glaedr said and he continued, _After the fall of the old Order and Galbatorix had placed himself on the throne and declared himself as King, after breaking into dragon's minds and bending them to his will, he came up with an idea, an idea so that he would not have to control people with just their true names. He told his idea to the remaining Forsworn and requested someone, a test subject and Morzan, being his most loyal subject, offered his newborn child, Murtagh to be their test subject. The King agreed to this plan and carrying out his orders, slashed open his child's back as he slept._

_But, _Arya cut in. _I thought that Morzan threw Zar'roc at Murtagh when he was running by, playing?_

Glaedr's thoughts turned to those of pity.

_The poor child, that was the story that was put out by the servants and Morzan invaded Murtagh's mind and gave him false memories, memories which Morzan made his child believe so if anyone asked, Murtagh would swear that that was the true story._

_How do you know this, master? _Arya asked. Glaedr chuckled slightly before replying.

_Brom told me of it. For Eragon's mother, Selena saw it happen and this is one of the most prominent reasons Selena abandoned Morzan, who threatened her so she would not tell the true story to a single soul, and she agreed. _

_But she obviously told Brom of this, who in turn, told me and Oromis._

Arya cut in again.

_But why did Galbatorix want a test subject?_

_Because he had been devising a spell, a spell that would allow him into the minds of anyone who had an identical scar on their back and let him control their actions. This he tested on Murtagh and it worked. Galbatorix then stole these memories from Murtagh so it was as if nothing had happened._

_That's what happened when Galbatorix took over Murtagh's body over Gil'ead, _Arya realised.

_That is correct, Arya, no one must be told of this. The obvious path that Galbatorix should take is to replace that scar on Eragon's back. And with Saphira, it is to steal her Eldunarí; they would both be completely in the King's control then._

Arya stood up, her head wheeling with this new information and she felt sickened, sickened at what Morzan and Galbatorix had done to an innocent child and she felt her heart soften for Murtagh, for what he had been through when he was a child. But then she remembered how he had killed Oromis and new anger rose in her chest.

_That's why he slashed Oromis like that, so he could control him._

_It was best for him that he..._

Glaedr lapsed into silence and his thoughts turning back to Oromis.

_Thank you, master. I shall leave you now if that is alright._

_It is quite alright._

Arya looked down at Rámir who was fast asleep in her lap and she sighed, stroking him and he opened one bleary eye to look at her for a second before closing the lid.

* * *

**THERE **WERE JEERS in the air, especially coming from the Urgals who howled their displeasure at the man climbing up the steps towards the gallows. This was the man who had poisoned the broth yesterday and he was now about to die. He was shoved along the platform towards where the noose hung, sneering at the Varden and at the Urgals assembled there. He had shortly cropped brown hair which stuck up at the back and green eyes. The right one was fleck with silver and they blazed with fury.

Arya stood to one side with Nasuada, Rámir coiled up by her feet and crunching on a lamb's leg bone, licking the remaining meat of the bone before cracking it open in search for the marrow. Arya wasn't paying attention to him; she was focused on the man now with the noose being fitted around his neck. The slow pounding of drums could now be heard over the noise of the crowd which quickly died away. Jörmundur stepped up onto the stage, a scroll in his hands and he started to read it aloud for all to hear:

'Jasoar Steffensson, you have been charged with the attempted murder – by poison – of three Urgals who are seriously injured by your offence. The punishment is to be hung by the neck until dead. Raise your voice now if you do not agree!'

There was absolute silence here apart from the animals of the camp. Jörmundur looked towards the executioner who in turn looked towards Nasuada who gave a slight nod of her head. He then strode towards the lever set into the platform which would open the hatch under the Jasoar's feet and send him tumbling. He gripped the lever and before he could pull it, Jasoar spoke in a loud, carrying voice.

'I know what has happened to Shadeslayer during the night!'

There was absolute silence so one could have heard a pin drop. Jasoar sneered and continued, his eyes glittering.

'I did what I did to stir up trouble between your two races: humans and Urgals as my King instructed to do!'

'Silence him!' Nasuada shouted and the executioner made to pull the lever again but Jasoar spoke again.

'My dear, Lady Nasuada,' he said. 'Do you not want to know what has happened to your Rider? He is trapped now, trapped with the King and bound to him to carry out my King's deeds, both him and the dragon! None can rescue him now, none! Not even your new Rider, the elf and the green dragon! He knows about them, he know that the egg has hatched!'

He began to laugh.

'Silence him!' Nasuada commanded again and the lever was pulled. The hatch fell away and Jasoar fell, a second later, a crack was heard and the cackle was cut short as his neck broke. Nasuada was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide. She cast a sideways glance at Arya before returning her attention to the Varden, everyone of them looking at her.

'Back to your work now, all of you!'

The Varden dispersed off between the tents while Nasuada strode towards Arya.

'I need to talk to you,' she said in a hushed voice and Rámir growled at her as she approached. Arya scowled and kicked at a stone by her feet, her expression one of a storm cloud. Nasuada walked off to her pavilion, her dress streaming out behind her and Arya sighed, taking off after her with Rámir in pursuit, the bone clutched in his jaws like a dog. People stopped to stare at Rámir and Arya, muttering, 'Argetlam,' as well and Arya felt a sting of pride as she looked down at Rámir following behind her.

Rámir was getting a lot of looks as well, people were looking at him with awe and a little boy reached out to touch the dragon. Rámir looked over at him and stood still and the boy froze as well. Arya felt Rámir's emotions cross over their bond and the boy extended his hand further out and rubbed Rámir's forehead and the little dragon began to hum, low in his throat. At this, he pulled back and Arya smiled. He froze and looked up at Arya, his face paling.

'Do not be afraid,' Arya said but the boy's eyes remained wide. Rámir looked up at her and dropped the bone he held in his jaws, fluttering up into her arms and brushing his snout along her neck. Arya smiled down at the boy once more and hurried off to Nasuada's tent at a slow run. She caught up with Nasuada and she turned, raising an eyebrow at the same time and continued forwards, Nighthawks guards flanking her whist Arya followed behind with Rámir in her arms.

Walking into her pavilion, Nasuada turned around when she reached her high backed chair and she sat down, smoothing down her skirts when she sat. Arya perched on the edge of a chair as Rámir fluttered onto a chair of his own and watched Nasuada carefully, his tail flicking back and forth.

Nasuada took a deep breath before she started.

'I owe you an apology, Arya.'

'Do you believe me now?'

Nasuada took another breath before replying.

'Hearing it from two people in the same day has changed my views on the matter.'

Arya still wasn't satisfied with the answer that Nasuada had given her and Rámir, sensing her irritation snarled at Nasuada.

'Arya, please tell me what you saw, I need to know.'

Arya eyed Nasuada before she started slowly with what she had seen, starting her tale when Eragon and Saphira had broken out of the throne room. As she talked, Arya felt tears coming to her eyes and she dimly noticed Rámir humming quietly behind her, the noise getting loud with each word until he was keening towards the heavens. Arya looked around at him, his neck swaying with a rhythm and his small keening becoming a low rumble. Stopping, he fixed his gaze on Arya, his eyes full of knowing and she stretched out and cupped his face. Rámir closed his eyes and his throat began to vibrate.

_Arya._

The single word filled Arya's mind and she jumped, looking around for the source of it and her name echoed through her head once more.

_Arya._

She looked at Rámir who had his eyes open once more and was looking at her in return, his expression soft and smiling with his eyes.

'Rámir?'

_Arya._

The voice was masculine, full of knowing, joyful and solemn at the same time, full of knowledge and learning and it contained wisdom behind the single word.

'Who was that?' Nasuada asked but Arya ignored her, looking at Rámir and he turned his head to Nasuada and she understood straight away.

_Arya._


	38. Chapter 38 -- Dinner

38

**Dinner**

_As he did so, the Indonesian maid came in with the dinner: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Alex helped himself. _

**_– Snakehead: Anthony Horowitz_**

The door opened and Eragon found himself looking at a round room with smooth marble walls with chains hammered into the wall at regular intervals. A grate could be seen overhead and through that grate, sunlight filtered through the metal bars. Sometimes, shadows would pass over the grate and Eragon would recognise them as feet and people walking over the top. Eragon returned his attention to the well like prison and saw a man hunched down in the corner of the room and he looked up as the door opened. The sunlight fell just short of his feet but Eragon could still recognise Murtagh's features as the guards sat him down next to Murtagh and bound his hands to the wall. One of them spat at him, marching away and closing the door behind him with a crash.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them for a few minutes which Murtagh broke.

'Why didn't you tell me?' His voice was soft with a hint of anger in it. Eragon didn't need to ask what he was talking about.

'It was my greatest defence and one of the only weapons I had left. Wouldn't you have kept it close to your chest if you found out your father was someone other than Morzan?'

Murtagh snorted and turned his back on Eragon.

'Brother-'

'Don't call me "brother".'

Eragon could see how much this knowledge hurt Murtagh for he scowled and started scratching in the dirt with his nail, a series of glyphs and when Eragon leaned over to read them, Murtagh quickly rubbed them out and scowled at him.

'Brother-' Eragon started again.

'I told you, don't call me that!' Murtagh shouted, jumping up and drawing back his fist at the same time. The punch landed square on the side of Eragon's head and he fell back dazed, but it wasn't long before he picked himself up from the ground and launched at Murtagh, going on the attack. Eragon pushed Murtagh to the ground and kicked at him, but Murtagh rolled away and turned to punch Eragon in the stomach. He could see the guards outside looking in eagerly through the peephole in the door and goading them to keep fighting.

Eragon caught Murtagh's fist in his right hand and went in to punch Murtagh in the chest. He rolled away but Eragon's fist caught his chest and Murtagh fell backwards with a shout. Eragon crouched and pivoted on his right foot, tripping Murtagh up as he attempt to stand and sent him sprawling in the dirt once more. Spluttering, he came up and made a wild grab at Eragon who had straightened up by this time and he yelped, swaying like a willow reed backwards and Murtagh grabbed thin air, his momentum carrying him forwards on top of Eragon who kicked him off.

'It's not my fault!' he shouted. 'I didn't choose my father to change! I wanted the truth to be different, and different it was, but a son doesn't choose his father!'

'You could say that about me!' Murtagh screamed back at him. 'Look at my father, a monster, Eragon. When the Twins found out that we were related, that we shared the same mother, I thought I had found someone who would have to carry the same burden as me. But when I found out the truth not two days ago, I was cast out again, forever doomed to carry _his _name!'

Murtagh threw a punch at the wall, swearing loudly as he split his knuckles on the hard stone and he sat down, fuming and muttering choice words under his breath. Eragon looked up at the grate, scowling himself when he saw all of the people who were looking down at the two of them. He ducked his head and now Murtagh looked up at them now.

'What the hell are you looking at?' he demanded and they quickly dispersed. Eragon stared flatly at Murtagh as he slumped against the wall once more.

'We're both in this fix now, and now we both know what it's like, we should review our options and try to change our true—'

'I don't care,' Murtagh said with obvious restrain, his head buried in his hands.

'Do you not what to break free of Galbatorix?'

'Yes, but—'

'Do you want to get out of Urû'baen and see that bastard dead?'

'Yes, but—'

'Do you want Thorn to be happy?'

'Yes!' Murtagh roared. 'But how? He is watching our every move and if we so much as discuss changing our names he will know of it! Suggest how we do this and I will be happy to try.'

Murtagh looked at Eragon for an answer and when he didn't respond, Murtagh turned away. 'Bah! You see? If you want to risk his displeasure, fine! Go ahead and try to change it! But I for one have had enough of his anger directed out on me. Do you know of how much pain I have gone through ever since I arrived? I-I don't want Thorn to suffer for my mistakes and actions, and I'm sure you feel the same about Saphira.' Murtagh blinked tears from his eyes and he let them fall down his face. 'He's going to force Thorn, I know it, and he told me that he will make Thorn mate with Saphira.'

Eragon shouted and a wave of fear rushed over him. 'No!'

'Unless you come up with another miraculous escape plan, you can't stop him.'

Eragon turned on Murtagh and his eyes were wide.

'You're just giving up? When you know what he will make Thorn do to Saphira and you sit there and _give up?' _he said in an astounded voice.

'What else can I do? Months, Eragon, for months I have endured this and I don't want either me or Thorn to go through more hurt and suffering, both of us have had enough for a lifetime.'

'It doesn't just mean you give up! Think about your dragon, your partner, Thorn and what Galbatorix is forcing him to do to Saphira, _my dragon!'_

Murtagh frowned and turned his back on Eragon.

'Do what you think is best, but for now, the only times you get out of Urû'baen is when the King sends you out.'

'Why does he send you and Thorn out?'

Murtagh shrugged here and went back to scratching in the dirt.

'Depends, it's mostly to do his dirty work, like capturing you and Saphira for instance.'

'Finding me when I was running back from Helgrind?'

'Yeah, like that. Did you see us?'

'Aye.'

Murtagh turned around to face Eragon again, his head slightly cocked to the side.

'How close?'

Eragon considered this information for a moment, this was the past and it couldn't hurt to tell Murtagh. 'Half a kilometre.'

'Damn it.' Murtagh had a slight grin on his face now and shook his head. 'All of that time searching and you were only half a kilometre away.'

Eragon started smiling now, even though he didn't know why.

'Mind you, I nearly got caught in the process. Because I had shielded my mind, some soldiers caught me by surprise.' Eragon sat back and remembered how he had dived into the bushes beside the road and waited there, terrified and barely being able to escape detection. The conversation between the two soldiers then crossed his mind and he turned towards Murtagh who was looking at him.

'When that happened, I heard the soldiers talking about something you said."You heard what Morzan's spawn said as well as I did." Those were their words. What did you say?'

Murtagh looked down at the floor and continued his writing in the dirt.

'It was…it was something I said in my own foolishness, when I considered myself to be greater than others only because I had Thorn at my side. "You are nothing; I don't need you, for I am great, greater than you. I am the one who will bring Galbatorix glory for I will be the one to capture Eragon and Saphira." You see?'

Now Eragon's question had been answered, he lapsed into silence, constantly thinking over what Murtagh had told him.

'He really twisted you, didn't he?'

'I would have descended into the same madness that the King is in now, but you came along and gave me a helping hand, I thank you for that.'

Eragon turned towards Murtagh and shifted his weight slightly.

'Murtagh, brother. Please help me through this, please. As you said, I did not grow up here. I need your help.'

'Don't call me "brother",' Murtagh said softly as he turned away once more.

'Will you help me?'

There was silence for a moment.

'I will.'

'Then the first thing you can do by helping him is showing him where he'll be staying,' a voice said. Eragon jumped and swung around, jumping up at the same time as Murtagh. Eragon could see Salcarthar's face through the peephole on the door and Eragon felt hate bubbling within him. The lock rattled as a key was turned and then the door swung open to reveal Salcarthar framed in it. Murtagh was also on his feet now and he was eyeing Salcarthar with anger.

'As I was saying,' he continued. 'The King expects the both of you to be present in his throne room for dinner tonight. You will dress accordingly. Good day to you.'

He swept out whist calling for a set of keys and a few moments later, a guard lumbered into the room and unlocked their wrists, mumbling to himself all the while. He shoved the both of them out when he was finished.

'Why the hell are you still here? Go!' he roared at them and the two of them started off up the winding corridor which would lead them back upstairs.

'At least I'll get to sleep in a proper bed tonight,' Murtagh mumbled to himself.

'This is the first time I'll be able to sleep in a proper bed for five weeks,' Eragon shot back. Murtagh scowled at Eragon as they came into the main part of the prison. They passed a few cell fronts and continued towards a flight of steps which they climbed up. They reached the bar door at the top of the stairs which Murtagh rattled. The guards outside turned towards them and seeing who it was, hastened to unlock the door. He swung it open and backed away quickly whist Eragon and Murtagh strolled out and into the dying sunlight.

'Follow me,' Murtagh said and he trudged off in the opposite direction of the throne room much to Eragon's relief and he hurried after him. Murtagh didn't look back at Eragon and his shoulders were slouched as he walked. Whenever they encountered servants, they cowered before Murtagh, muttering 'Argetlam,' after him but Murtagh ignored them. Eragon tried to remember where to go from the central garden but he became hopelessly lost so he just followed behind Murtagh.

'When will I get to see Saphira?'

Murtagh looked over his shoulder and Eragon hurried forwards to catch up.

'I get to see Thorn whenever I want so you could probably see her whenever. But I should say that Shruikan does watch over Thorn so I wouldn't be surprised if Saphira is also.'

'Thank you.'

Murtagh pulled up short and Eragon looked at him. Two guards stood outside a wooden door and they stood to attention when the two Riders pulled up.

'You may leave,' Murtagh said. They bowed and went off down the corridor. 'This is the royal wing of the castle. I stay here as well as Galbatorix who sleeps in that room.' He flicked a finger towards the biggest set of doors in the corridor which had no less than eight soldiers standing outside. 'I'm in that door.' Murtagh jabbed over his shoulder towards the door behind him. 'Come over when you're ready or I'll come to your door.' Murtagh walked across the corridor and opened the door which he slammed shut behind him. Eragon cautiously opened his own door and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

He took in the room and saw Saphira's saddle in the corner, next to a set of dark blue curtains. The room was made of limestone and a huge bed took up the middle of the room with a white spread over it and blue cushions where Eragon would lay his head. It was a four poster bed and the hangings were once again blue which was the same sapphire blue as Saphira. The fabric would shift with the breeze coming from an open door off to his left and it shimmered which mimicked Saphira by copying her scales, the colour shifting as the light caught it at different angles to show many shades of blue in the fabric. A roaring fire was set in a grate off to the right and a spiralling set of Urgal horns towered above it, larger than the ones which had hung over the door of Morn's tavern back in Carvahall. An alcove had been set aside and when Eragon went over to investigate, he found a tub behind the curtain – also sapphire blue – with a stack of soft towels in a corner. Turning back, he saw a white rug took up the centre of the room which was soft under foot. Eragon took his shoes off to avoid dirtying it and he walked over towards the open door, brushing aside the curtains to see a magnificent view.

The city of Urû'baen was spread out beneath him and the walls of the palace reflected the sunlight. He could see for miles in each direction. Eragon stepped out onto a balcony and saw another balcony ahead of him which wrapped around a tower in front of him. Peering through a window, Eragon could see another bedroom in the tower. These curtains were made of black satin a gap in between them allowed Eragon access to the room. The rug which was much like his own, but flecked with purple and squinting, he could see a picture hanging on the wall. The wind threw back the curtains somewhat and Eragon could make out a fairth which depicted a glittering purple dragon with sparkling eyes. Eragon knew who this was, the purple matching Galbatorix's sword and he could see that the dragon was obviously female with a thin neck and a more gentle face than male dragons. This was Jarnunvösk, Galbatorix's first dragon.

Eragon re-entered his room and crossed to a mahogany wardrobe, throwing it open. He found an ironed white shirt hanging on a hanger and a pair of tan leather leggings draped over the rail which had been hammered into the furniture. A pair of soft boots and socks rested in the bottom and Eragon eagerly took off the shirt of sack cloth he currently wore, and he turned around to close the curtains and he caught sight of his back in the mirror which had been set into the door.

Eragon had pearly white scars all over his back thanks to Galbatorix and he stretched around, running his hand over his back. It was bumpy due to the scars and dismay gripped him.

_Once again, I have a reminder branded onto my back._

Eragon sighed, quickly going to shut the curtains and donning his shirt and the leggings, although he left the socks and shoes in the wardrobe for later. After lacing up the front of his shirt, Eragon crossed over to a water pitcher which had been placed on his bedside table and poured himself a glass of ice cold water and drained the glass in a gulp. Two more glasses followed and Eragon once again felt refreshed, swearing quietly as he remembered he still had to wash. Fuming that he had forgotten, he pointed towards a pot of water which hung over the fire, he said, 'Rïsa!'

The pot unhooked itself and came towards him. Eragon turned away to draw aside the curtain and it wobbled in the air. His magic was still coming back to him and it took all of his concentration to guide it safely across to room and empty it in the tub without scalding hot water on himself. Returning it to the coals, Eragon stripped once again and settled himself fin the tub and drawing the curtains closed. The water was piping hot but Eragon didn't care, he welcomed the warmth and took up a sponge and began to scrub away the weeks of grime which had accumulated on his body. He washed his hair and was thoroughly glad to be rid of the dirt on his body and after a good wallow around, hosted himself out and took up one of the towels. His body had turned bright pink from the heat and he once again donned his clothes, drying his hair with a towel at the same time. Eragon reached up to scratch his ear and a little bit of soap came away with his finger which must have gotten trapped behind his ear and wiped it off on the towel.

By this time, twilight had fallen and the lights in the palace had started to come on. Eragon guessed it to be about five thirty so he settled himself down on the bed, relaxing into the plump pillows and closed his eyes, stretching towards Saphira. He found the three dragons in seconds, their life forces blazing with light and as soon as Eragon's consciousness touched Saphira's she pulled him into her.

_Little one! Where are you? Are you alright?_

_I am fine, Saphira. I'm quite comfortable in fact. _He sent her an image of his new room and she snorted.

_Lucky you, I got dumped in the same room as Thorn and Shruikan. You should see them, horrible males, sniffling and snuffling at me every chance they get and I eventually had to shield my mind and roar at them to get them to back off._

_I'm male, are you also directing that at me?_

_All males apart from you, _she corrected and Eragon laughed.

_I'm glad. What has happened to you?_

_Let me show you then._

They each spent the next few minutes swapping their memories of what had happened to them over the course of the past day. They embraced each other with their minds and let the other's thoughts rub over their own, like two warm currents of water overlapping one another. It was a relief to feel Saphira's mind against his own again and she was obviously feeling them same way from the way her emotions were speaking out. She sent him an image of Murtagh and snorted.

_This proves my theory! Always, when I am away from you, you always get into fights!_

_He started it, _Eragon said in defence. _Murtagh punched me on the side of my head! Of course I had to defend myself!_

_Of course, Eragon, _Saphira snorted and she shifted through Eragon's memories.

_So that's what Murtagh meant. Eragon, promise me that in our time here, or even in the future, you will never do that._

_Eka heit. _I promise.

He felt Saphira's satisfaction wash through him.

_I'll come and see you tomorrow and we will fly together. I have to have dinner with the King._

Saphira hissed at Galbatorix's mention and Eragon could feel her body tensing.

_I wonder why he wants to see you._

_I think I know. I think it's because he wants to know things about us, the Varden and for the both of us to swear his loyalty to him._

His own sadness and dread matched Saphira's and he could feel her terror as well.

_We have no choice but to._

_I know, little one. I know._

Eragon's train of thought was interrupted by a banging at the door and he sat upright, his senses tingling. He got off the bed and made his way to the door, pausing to don his shoes and socks and opening it to discover Murtagh waiting outside.

'You ready?'

'Aye. What's the time?'

'Six,' Murtagh grunted. He too had a white shirt on complete with black leggings also made of leather and calf high boots. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. 'Come on.'

They went off along the corridor and again, whenever they met people, they cowered and bowed towards them. Murtagh ignored them, strutting past them and wanting to get to his destination fast. Eragon felt almost sorry for the servants and the order of authority Murtagh held over them. Soon the passage ways became all too familiar and Eragon could hear the newly repaired fountain in the garden gurgling out water. There was the chirpings of a cricket in a nearby hedge and there were a couple of gardeners bustling around the small paradise. The doors leading to the throne room were as intimidating as ever and this was the first time Eragon had walked up to the doors out of his own free will, he realised. He had normally been dragged towards the King, but not now.

The doors opened as they drew near and they quickly entered the room. Galbatorix's throne had been moved so it now sat at the head of an oaken table set for three. Candles had been set along the table at regular intervals held in gold and silver candle sticks. There were three dishes on the table set in front of the three chairs with complete sets of cutlery which was made of Sterling silver. Servants scurried around preparing the table and when Murtagh and Eragon came in; they bowed and backed away to the walls. Murtagh went to stand over beside his chair and Eragon copied him. Salcarthar then strode in, nodded coldly towards the two Riders.

'Presenting his Lord and Majesty, King of Alagaësia, the high and mighty Galbatorix!'

The King seemed to step out of the shadows, sweeping around the table to the throne which had been set at the head of it and sat down quietly. Murtagh sat after him and once again, Eragon mirrored him. Salcarthar bowed down low and backed away so he was a few paces behind the King. Galbatorix stared at the two younger Riders for a few seconds before signalling to Salcarthar for food. The servants and the magician scurried off to please their King. Galbatorix wasn't paying attention to Murtagh, all of it was on Eragon who in turn was fiddling in his lap, interlocking his fingers and taking them apart again. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes whist they waited for the food to come. And then, the King began to speak.

'Eragon Shadeslayer, Bane of the Ra'zac and Argetlam, long have I waited to meet you and longer still have I waited to have you and your dragon under my command. With the two of you at my side, Alagaësia will flourish and we will enjoy an age of peace. With you and Saphira, the Riders will be restored.'

Eragon looked up at the King and a memory came back to him, when he, Murtagh and Saphira had arrived in Farthen Dûr and Murtagh had told him of when he had had dinner with Galbatorix on his eighteenth birthday, of the way had had said these things.

_'You've never heard his voice, so it's hard for me to make you understand what it was like. His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I've never heard.'_

Eragon now understood. Whenever he had heard Galbatorix speak, it was…different, he didn't know how so but it didn't feel quite right. Murtagh looked up from across the table and cast a frightened glance towards the King and he started to fiddle with his fork, twisting it over and over in his hands to distract himself. This was his eighteenth birthday all over again now, but for somebody else now.

'Eragon, understand this, I am not an evil man.'

'You killed my masters,' Eragon said quietly and rage burned in his eyes. 'You killed them; you truly have destroyed the Riders so they can never be brought back, even with Saphira, and you have the nerve to say that you are not _evil?'_

'I did not kill them. Their murderer sits just across the table from you. It was not I.'

Murtagh seemed to shrink in his chair but Eragon ignored him.

'I know what really happened; I know that it was you.'

The King smiled at him and sat back in his throne.

'And I trust there is a way you would have found out about this? A trinket? A charm or spell of some sort? I doubt that that old fool Oromis could have done that with what Kialandí and Formora did to him and his pitiful dragon. Or even a priceless jewel?'

Eragon felt rage bubble deep down inside him and he stood up sharply, faster than any human could of. Not only that, but he also sensed where the subject was going.

'Oromis was not an old fool! He was a much greater man than you or you will ever be!' he hollered and his anger doubled when he saw Galbatorix's calm expression.

'Eragon, I have no wish to be quarrelling so please, sit.'

Eragon didn't move and Galbatorix sighed.

'Now, Brisingr Eld Moi.' He said the true name quietly but Eragon sat roughly in the chair as the main doors opened once more. Servants came into the hall bearing huge platters piled high with food. Meat was on nearly all of the dishes and the smell filled Eragon's nose. He gagged silently as he caught the scent and the servants set down the platters on the table. One hurried forwards and filled their goblets with wine and which Galbatorix picked up and swirled around the goblet, muttering spell for detecting poison under his breath before taking a sip. Eragon did the same, only to get rid of the smell of meat, pausing to copy Galbatorix. His magic was once again clumsy and he cursed quietly. Taking a risk, he took a sip and a glorious taste filled his mouth.

_This wine has got to be the best I've ever tasted!_

Now the servants were serving out the food and Eragon had to wave away all the meat they offered him and instead settled for some slices of bread and steamed vegetables which consisted of potatoes, carrots, cauliflower and snow peas plus many more. Murtagh gave him an odd look but said nothing as did Galbatorix. Both of their plates were piled high with meat and to Eragon's nose, the meat was cooked perfectly. It was warm and juicy, obviously just coming from the spits. It pained his heart to see that all under his nose but he ignored it, knowing where it came from and his respect for life.

'Let us begin,' Galbatorix said quietly and Murtagh dove in, picking up his knife and fork and cutting up beef. Eragon eyed his food before slowly picking up his own cutlery and cutting up a potato which he eat in three bites. There was silence now apart from the clatter of metal and the banging of goblets being set down. Galbatorix eat very little, but sat there watching Eragon all the while and yet another memory came back to Eragon.

_'The meal was sumptuous, but throughout it his black eyes never left me. His gaze was disconcerting; it seemed as if he were searching for something hidden in my face.'_

Eragon concentrated on his food, selecting another potato and cutting up that one to. After finishing that one too, he drank some more of his wine and continued eating. The silence stretched for some minutes and Eragon had no desire to break it. Servants were always coming in and out of the room, refilling goblets and bringing in more food whenever it ran low.

Finally: 'Eragon, you must be wondering why tonight I have asked you to dine with me and Murtagh?'

'Yes, sir,' replied Eragon curtly and the King chuckled quietly under his breath.

'It seems that you yet have to learn some manners.'

'You deserve none.'

Murtagh winced and Eragon knew he was getting into a dangerous area but he didn't care at the moment.

'Oromis much said the same thing just before he died.'

'He spoke the truth.'

'Back onto that subject, how do you know of such things?'

Eragon looked to franticly change the subject once more.

'Has the egg shown up yet?' he finally blurted and Galbatorix sighed, but a twinkle of satisfaction appeared in his eyes.

'It has in fact. I only learnt about this last night. It has hatched thanks to our young Rider here.'

Galbatorix indicated Murtagh who ignored him and started to moodily stab at a potato on his plate with his fork. Galbatorix returned his gaze towards Eragon as Murtagh continued to pound the potato. Galbatorix picked up his wine goblet and swirled the cup around five times before taking a sip. Setting it down, he interlocked his fingers and fixed his black eyes on Eragon.

'As I was saying, the final egg has hatched to an elven Rider not two weeks ago.'

Eragon sat up at that news, placing his hands on his knees and looking Galbatorix in the eye.

'Did your spies tell you to whom the egg has hatched?'

Galbatorix smiled and his eyes glittered.

'It seems that Murtagh here,' he indicated Murtagh who looked up from his pounded potato, 'is responsible for this whole thing. Murtagh, Eragon, I need your help here. I need you to capture this new Rider and dragon and bring them to me.'

'To whom did the egg hatch for?' Eragon repeated. The King switched his gaze to Eragon and smiled.

'To an elf who you know, trust and to an elf that you once pursued.'

Eragon gagged on that news and thoughts spun around his head and her face, emerald eyes and raven hair.

'Arya?'

Murtagh looked stunned and he looked towards the King. He was laughing quietly at their reactions.

'Yes, to an elf called Arya, princess of Ellesméra. But that is enough for tonight. Be gone and, Eragon, I expect you and Saphira to report here tomorrow along with you, Murtagh, and Thorn of course.'

Galbatorix stood up fluidly and swept out of the room, leaving the two Riders sitting at the table.

'Arya. I'd never,' Murtagh said in wonder, shaking his head in bewilderment. 'Come on. I'll show you back upstairs.'

Murtagh rose from his seat and Eragon did so to, following Murtagh out of the throne room immersed in his own thoughts. When Eragon was back in his room, he rummaged around in Saphira's saddlebags for his broth bowl and once he had extracted it, he marched over to the water pitcher. Pouring the water into the bowl so it formed a shallow pool, Eragon drew for the magic, fixing an image of Arya in his mind.

'Draumr Kópa,' he whispered.

The water went black for a few seconds, but then an image began to form. Arya was sitting on a cot in what was her tent. The flap was open so that Eragon could see a white back ground but occasionally people came into the frame. Two of the elves that used to guard him walked by and positioned themselves off to the right of the frame and Eragon heard a sound that was between a squeak and a low roar, a noise that he recognized instantly but he hadn't heard it for a long while. Arya looked around to focus on something Eragon could see and then Eragon saw him. Emerald scales glittered in the light cast from the sun as the dragon jumped up onto the cot and rested himself next to Arya, looking up at her and she at him.

Eragon let the image fade and he slumped onto the bed. Galbatorix had been telling the truth. Arya was the third and last Rider that would ever be.

'Arya?' Eragon whispered to himself.


	39. Chapter 39 -- Bound by Oaths

39

**Bound by Oaths**

_'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in the need of plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour forth, until my Lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'_

_ **– The Lord of the Rings, Return of the King: J.R.R. Tolkien**_

Birds chirped outside on the balcony and a figure stirred under crisp white sheets. He screwed up his eyes for a few seconds before opening them. Eragon started when he saw the surroundings and he sat up with inhuman speed, panicking for a second when he saw that he wasn't in his cell anymore, but then the previous day came flooding back to him.

_Arya. Of all the people out there, why Arya?_

_I nearly hatched for her, _Saphira cut in.

_Did you?_

_Yes, but something about her wasn't quite right for me._

_I'm glad you waited._

_So am I, little one, so am I._

Eragon swung his leg over the side of the bed, regretting getting up.

_This bed has got to be one of the most comfortable I have ever slept in, but not the most._

_What has been then, I thought that this being Urû'baen and all, you would indeed have a comfortable bed?_

_The best nights of sleeping I have ever had are when I am with you against your belly._

_That is very sweet of you._

Eragon's toes brushed against the cold floor and he pulled his feet back up again, preferring the warmth of his bed. Steeling himself, he got up and proceeded to the balcony. Eragon threw the doors open, he gasped as a cold air greeted him and he shivered, jumping as he registered something cold under his feet. Looking down, Eragon saw cold whiteness underneath his bare toes.

_Saphira, it must have snowed last night._

She snorted at that.

_The last time I saw it, I barely remember it. The only reason I remember is because you abandoned me I it when I was one day old._

_I didn't abandon you! I would of never!_

_I know you wouldn't, but that's what I felt like. The person I had waited one hundred years for, I am with him for one night and then he just leaves me by myself, tied to a tree in the middle of a forest in the freezing cold._

Eragon felt his ears redden but Saphira gave a small chuckle.

_I was merely being sarcastic. Will we fly today?_

_I don't know. Galbatorix wants to see us, the both of us. He's asked Murtagh to be present with Thorn as well._

_It must be serious if he wants Murtagh and Thorn there as well. No doubt that Shruikan will also be present. _She snarled quietly at the mention of the dragon. _He smells, _she said finally and Eragon snorted.

_I'm sorry. I'll come down now._

Eragon crossed over to the wardrobe and selected a fresh shirt and donned the trousers he had worn yesterday for the dinner. Thinking about that, he suddenly noticed the gnawing hunger in his stomach and the small portion of food he had received.

_I'll get something to eat later, _he decided. Exiting his room and pulling on his shoes and socks at the same time, he let his mind wander and dug into yesterday's memories. Guided by these, he made his way down to the main courtyard and asking directions from a servant who was looking at him in a terrified kind of way. Eragon descended two flights of stairs and made his way along a corridor which had two oil paintings at either end. After this, he took a left turn and started towards a huge door set in the middle of the corridor. Two guards stood outside with pikes at the ready. Eragon strode up to them and they stiffened with alarm, their knuckles whitening on the shafts of their pikes.

'May I see my dragon?' Eragon asked in a polite voice and the guards relaxed.

'Don't see why not,' one of them shrugged, standing back to lift the heavy beam across the door and his friend rushed to help him. They grunted at the weight and placed it in the holders on the left side of the door. The first one then put his shoulder against the door and heaved it open with a grunt and Eragon walked in.

_Saphira! _he called and there was a flurry of wings as Saphira rushed over to him, pushing past a curious Thorn at the same time and he snapped at her tail. She growled then turned her attention on Eragon.

_Little one! How glad I am that you are alright!_

Eragon hugged her neck and she began to hum deep within her chest. Eragon automatically started to scratch behind her ear and the humming became a purr.

_I'm glad you are alright, Saphira, _Eragon murmured to her and her purr increased.

_I am also glad that you are here. I had a horrid night with those two. _She flicked her tail over at Thorn and another dragon which had escaped Eragon's attention before because of his black colour.

_I am very sorry, Saphira. Truly I am._

_It's alright for you to say, you got to spend the night in a comfortable bed!_

_Well, I understand why they did it._

_And now you are defending them!_

_Saphira, please calm down._

She growled and bared her teeth at the two dragons. Thorn glared back at her, his pupils turning to slits and Shruikan snorted, uninterested in the whole episode.

_You certainly have made in impression on Thorn._

_Which way?_

_Mostly in dominance._

_Good, it is right after all. I am the elder dragon and he is nothing but a hatchling!_

_What about Shruikan?_

_I wasn't counting him._

Eragon laughed and Saphira snorted slightly.

_Forgive me._

_Of course I will. What kind of pairing would we be if we didn't forgive?_

_A disagreeable one._

_True.…_

Eragon moved his fingers faster and Saphira's purr increased in volume and she opened her eyes to look into Eragon's. They stayed like that for a long time, just sharing their thoughts and feelings through their bond.

_He wants us, doesn't he? _Saphira whispered and Eragon closed his eyes and sighed.

_Yes, for us to swear our loyalty to him._

Saphira whimpered and before Eragon could interpret her feels, she threw back her head and howled towards the ceiling.

_Not like this! Please! He will make me! _she screamed and Eragon clapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out her voice. _No!_

She thrashed her tail and Eragon sidestepped it.

_Saphira! _he shouted. _Please calm-_

_I will not calm! Remember what Oromis and Glaedr said? To bring back our race is impossible! I do not want my hatchlings to be the last ones and to know that they will die unloved by a mate because of what Galbatorix has done! I wish for hatchlings, I do, but I do not want them to be unhappy in life, for to be unloved by a mate is one of the hardest things to live without! To be born into the world as the last of their kind! Since this is to happen to the dragon race, I will be the last, not my children, I will, not them, but me._

She lowered her head again to Eragon's eye level and she struggled to keep her teeth hidden.

_Oh, Saphira, _Eragon whispered and he wiped some tears away from his eyes. _I will do everything I can to stop this coming around. I will do anything, even if I have to murder Galbatorix in bed and break one hundred oaths in the ancient language._

_Thank you. When did that…that _traitor_ want us to be with him? _Saphira snarled and her hate of the King thrilled through Eragon's mind and he clenched his hands into fists. His eyes flared and they flashed blue for a second.

_I…don't know. He didn't say._

_Then if we can do nothing, let us enjoy what little hours we have left of our freedom. Shall we fly?_

_We cannot fly I don't think, but let us walk for I am certain we are allowed to do that._

She snorted and Eragon smiled.

_I'm sorry; I just don't want you to be in pain if Galbatorix thought we were trying to escape._

_I understand._

_How about we fly after?_

_Agreed._

Eragon scrambled up Saphira's side and she swung her head around and touched Eragon's knee with her snout.

_Where you belong._

_Where I belong, _he echoed and she started forwards. The guards cowered against the wall as Saphira came out but she ignored them and started off in the opposite direction to which Eragon had come.

_This is the only way which I can get in out of this corridor, _she explained at Eragon's confused thoughts. Eragon reddened as he remembered the door he had come through was much too small for something of Saphira's size.

They were silent for a few minutes as Saphira continued to follow her path and after a while, Eragon could see daylight streaming in through an opening. Saphira started forwards more quickly and soon she was at a trot, eager to escape into the open air. A grate was now visible and eight guards were stationed outside. They heard Saphira coming down the corridor which had turned to rough stone and they quickly opened the door and she burst out, roaring with pleasure at the same time.

The sunlight caught her scales and cast small blue specks on the virgin snow. They were in the main square which was free from the markets for today the many people which were milling around stopped to look at Saphira with awe.

_You certainly have made an impression, _Eragon said and Saphira gave a grin.

_What would I be if I didn't? After all, I am a dragon and it is only right that these puny humans should look on me with awe, their men gazing at my beauty and their woman jealous because they could never be as beautiful as I._

_You certainly are the most beautiful in all of Alagaësia, above and below, especially with the snow, it reflects your scales with such beauty._

_Why, thank you, Eragon. That is very sweet of you._

_It is only the truth._

_I appreciate your comment._

Saphira flicked her eyes around the people gathered in the square and snorted, small tongues of flame escaping from between her teeth and from her nostrils. The humans scattered and Eragon stroked Saphira's neck, a frown on his face.

_Why did you do that?_

_I am the one and only true huntress, I must show them who I am and I am not a force to be reckoned with._

_They would have been intimidated anyway, _Eragon snapped and Saphira snorted again, rolling her eyes.

_It is the way of the dragons, Eragon. It was the way my kind, the dragons, did this and it is instinctive for me._

_Well you have shown them that you are alpha now, will you not do that again?_

_Now that depends on my mood, so you cannot expect promises from me._

Eragon smiled at that and Saphira gave a throaty laugh, sensing Eragon's emotions. She snaked her head around once more and Eragon laid his hand on his nose, tracing the scales with his fingers to take his mind of the events to come.

_Why? _The single word came out of him before he could stop it. Saphira snarled and more flames escaped from her teeth, melting a patch of snow to water by her feet.

_Fate is cruel but sometimes, it cannot be escaped and this is one of those times._

_You are right as always, Saphira._

_Just as you said to me when you shouted at Nasuada._

_Does it not seem like a life time ago?_

_Aye, it does, _Saphira answered and she closed her eyes, raising her wings to stretch them. The sunlight filtered through them and turned everything a slight shade of blue until Saphira lowered them again, shuffling them and opening her eyes.

_What about that walk? _Eragon asked and Saphira sighed.

_This is why I wanted to fly. Walking would attract people's attention and I don't want people to be staring at me when I just want some peace of mind._

_Well you were just quite happy to show off._

_Well I don't want it all the time! You must feel that way sometimes!_

_Most of the time, I want people to ignore me! I hate being the centre of attention!_

_There must have been sometime in your past._

_When I was small, yes, but not now!_

Saphira laughed again and she swung her head forwards again.

_Come, you whining child! You must have!_

_Whining child?! I'll get you back for that! _Eragon said playfully and Saphira's laughter increased.

_I somehow doubt that, Eragon._

He shook his head and gazed towards the sky, wishing he and Saphira could fly in and out among the clouds.

'He won't let you,' a voice said behind him and Eragon looked around to see another dragon and Rider. Murtagh was astride Thorn and Thorn walked over slowly. Saphira snapped at him and he shied away.

'Won't he?'

'He does, but not as high as you normally would. Maybe a mile at most and within one league of the capital,' Murtagh replied and Eragon could feel Saphira's anger and disappointment echo through his mind.

'What? Is he afraid that we will run?' snapped Eragon. Thorn let out a warning growl and his eyes narrowed into slits. He puffed out his chest and his eyes darted towards Saphira. Eragon fancied that they softened a bit at this action. Saphira slapped him mentally when this floated across their bond.

_You're pleased._

_Am not. The little runt!_

_I'm not convinced._

_Well be convinced._

_Absolutely not!_

Saphira thrashed her tail and she growled.

_Well, maybe a little._

_Knew it._

_Shut up.…_she grumbled and Eragon let the subject go.

'That is exactly the reason. Remember, we are the King's greatest weapons and once…_if_ he manages to get Arya and her dragon, he would be near unbeatable. Remember, that's his ambition, I told you on the Burning Plains.'

'Aye,' growl Eragon and his grip shifted to Saphira's neck spike and he gripped tightly to the bone. 'Does he want us now?'

'Aye, now.'

Dread rushed both through Eragon and Saphira at these words. Thorn lifted his wings and jumped, spraying snow everywhere. Saphira leapt into the air a second after him, determined to show him who was boss and she quickly caught up, buffeting Thorn with her wings. Thorn growled and repeated the action but towards Saphira. She swerved away and came back at him, her eyes glittering with malice.

_Saphira! _Eragon said and she glanced back at him quickly. _This isn't the time to be playing around! _She grew serious again and her playfulness died.

It was a quick flight and both the dragons fluttered down into the main courtyard. The snow had been swept away so the dragon's talons clacked on the hard marble as they landed. Eragon swallowed and started forwards, dread filling his mind. Saphira was growling as Murtagh and Thorn strode forwards towards the throne room. Murtagh knocked and entered, followed by Thorn, Eragon and Saphira.

The dragons hardly took up any space in the vast hall and Galbatorix rose from his throne. He stood up and slowly made his way down the steps, striding towards the four of them. Eragon shuffled his feet and struggled to keep his fear hidden. He smoothed the barriers around his mind and thickened their armour so no one but Saphira could hear Eragon's thoughts. They were terrified and confused, one thought after the other flicked through his mind and Saphira's mirrored his. Galbatorix stopped a few paces in front of his throne and beckoned the Riders and dragons forwards. Come forwards they did but Murtagh and Thorn hovered a few paces back from the King as Saphira and Eragon continued to advance forwards. Eragon's head was bowed and Saphira was growling softly behind him as he came to a stop a few metres from the King.

'You were up early today, Eragon. I heard you going down the corridor and I sensed Saphira present in your mind.'

Eragon swallowed; how had the King known that? He had been shielding his mind but Eragon remembered Brom's tales in Carvahall plus Oromis' warnings about Galbatorix's ability to break into minds, to lurk in them unnoticed. Eragon immediately tightened the armour around his consciousness. Galbatorix noticed this and chuckled.

'You wonder how I do this. I know you do for I sense your thoughts even now. But this is beside the point. Come, Shadeslayer and Brightscales.' He swept around and walked back towards his throne. Galbatorix climbed the steps and settled himself onto the seat. 'Kneel,' he commanded. Eragon knelt and Saphira bowed her head. 'Let us speak in this tongue,' Galbatorix said in the ancient language.

'Of course,' Eragon replied also in the ancient language. Galbatorix's lips twitched and he began in a whisper.

'Answer this with the right endings, Brisingr Eld Moi and Manin Nama.

'I will.'

_I will._

'Do you, Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira Brightscales, swear to serve me loyalty which shall be true, that you will uphold your word and serve me to the best of your ability?'

'I will.'

_I will._

'Will you not turn your back on your Lord and your people and obey my command at all times?'

'I will.'

_I will._

'And will you,' whispered Galbatorix, 'recognise me as the true King of Alagaësia?'

Eragon swallowed and Saphira shuddered. He locked eyes with Galbatorix and his thick tongue said those words.

'I will.'

_I will, _Saphira echoed.

'Say the oath,' Galbatorix commanded.

Eragon dug around in his memory until he remembered the words which he had so long ago when Nasuada had become leader of the Varden.

'I, Eragon Bromsson, swear loyalty to Galbatorix, King and Overlord of Alagaësia. I will serve him loyally; obey his every command with my every breath. So say I, this is where my loyalty lies. I swear it on my true name.'

Saphira repeated this and Galbatorix stood up, satisfaction burning in his eyes and he walked down the steps with a note of swagger.

'Kiss the ring,' he said, holding out his right hand. An obsidian ring glinted in the light cast by the torches on the walls. Eragon hesitated but because of the oaths he had sworn, he lent forwards and did just that. Galbatorix smiled in triumph and his eyes danced with delight, the black looking alive for once.

'You and your dragon are mine,' he whispered.


	40. Chapter 40 -- Upon Wings You Must Fly

40

**Upon Wings You Must Fly**

_Got to open my eyes to everything._

**_– Bring Me to Life: Evanescence_**

Rámir flicked out his taste-scents-and-foods-tongue to taste the air. He liked his new called-name, Rámir. It sounded strong and noble and he was glad the being-of-his-life-Arya didn't call him 'the dragon' anymore in her thoughts, always brushing against his own, merged with his being, his identity. She was sleeping now, or in her awake-sleep-state as he called it. He was curled up against the side of her bed, having out grown it now so he had been forced to sleep on the dirt-earth-floor. Rámir stretched, yawning as he did so and he kneed his glitter-white-claws into the dirt. He stood; his shoulder towering over Arya's sleeping form. She stirred as he woke and opened her eyes.

_Arya, _Rámir said and she reached up and touched his nose.

_Did you sleep well, Rámir? _she asked and Rámir started to hum deep in his throat.

_Yes, _he replied. He had recently learned that word and his vocabulary was growing with each passing day. Every day, he could say and understand more since he had first spoken. Not only was his speak-words-list growing, but also his body. Three weeks ago, he had been a small hatchling and soul-entwined-Arya could easily pick him up but now his head was level with her shoulder. His muscles were exploding with energy which he would exert by flying. Rámir had quickly grown accustom to the air and he had grown to love it. He was still getting accustom to the air and to flying for he was still wobbly in the blow-away-air-currents but those wobbles would vanish with time.

Rámir had seen often in Arya's thoughts a sapphire dragon and another pointed-ear-two-legs and she would grow sad whenever this images surfaced in her thoughts. She was very beautiful, Rámir thought. She was an elder dragon; she wouldn't wobble in the air. Maybe she could teach Rámir later when they met? It was always in Arya's thoughts, in her daydreams, running into the pointed-ears-elf's arms and staying there, talking to him. The blue dragon stood behind the two of them and her eyes were always soft. The two surfaced in her thoughts now and Rámir held the image.

_Who are they? _he asked and Arya wiped unshed tears from her eyes.

_They were wonderful people, but they are…_

_Are they gone from the world? _Rámir asked slowly, looking for the right speech-words and putting them together.

_No, far worse than that, Rámir. They are being held prisoner by the King. An evil devil he is. He killed the Riders; he killed them and their dragons, slaughtered hundreds because of the hurt he was feeling. _

Rámir hissed and narrowed his eyes.

_Then he shall… _Looking for the word, Rámir paused for a second as he grasped for it. Bound-to-him-Arya smiled and stroked his muzzle. Closing his eyes, Rámir felt content there with Arya.

_What were they like?_

_They were wonderful, gentle and kind, yet fierce in battle. Their names are Eragon and Saphira. Eragon was especially kind. He has a kind heart but when I last saw him, it was terrible._

_I remember, _Rámir said, recalling the vision-sleep-dream that Arya had had last week.

_Yes._

_And Saphira?_

_She was one of the most wonderful dragons. I guarded her egg and because I failed, she hatched for Eragon._

Rámir listened to Arya talking, talking about pointed-ears-Eragon and glitter-scales-Saphira, the hurt she felt when they were captured and her dreams of them. The first of her dreams when she saw Eragon in a cell and the scars on his back, and how he had seemed to know that she was there.

_And the thing is, Rámir, _she said after a while, _this has happened between us before. I was captured by a Shade-_

_Shade? _Rámir interrupted. _What's a Shade?_

_A Shade is a being with souls trapped inside them, possessing the body and mind. They are creatures of violence and strike fear in the hearts of humans, elves and dwarves alike. They are hard to kill and the only way they can be killed is to be stabbed through the heart._

Rámir absorbed this information.

_A Shade?_

_Yes. He captured me just after I sent Saphira egg to Eragon and he tortured me for information._

Rámir snarled and smoke erupted from his maw.

_He shall die for hurting you!_

_Rámir! He is already dead, _Arya said quickly. _He was killed many months before by Eragon! _Rámir relaxed slightly and nudged Arya.

_Please, forgive me._

_Of course._

Rámir settled himself down as partner-for-life-Arya continued.

_He had seen me in dreams when I had been captured by the Shade and he wondered who I was and why these dreams kept coming to him. He and another came and rescued me and brought me to the Varden. There, I was healed of the poison that the Shade had given to me. It was soon after this that he was killed._

Rámir purred happily and Arya stretched down her hand beside the sleep-spot-cot to rub Rámir's head.

_But don't you see, Rámir? _Arya continued. _You've seen my dreams and now this is happening in reverse. Will this ever be explained? Why is this happening between us?_

_Some fates are tied together, one cannot play out without the other, _Rámir replied. Arya looked at him in a strange way.

_Young, and yet your words are wise, _she murmured and Rámir shifted his position, smiling inwards.

Rámir heard a must-not-eat-dog barking somewhere off in the distance and he stirred and stood. Walking out of the tent, he stretched his flying-wings to their fullest extent and shivered. Something cold was underfoot and he lifted up his feet to see something cold and white.

_Arya, what is this? _he asked as Arya followed him out.

_Snow, _she answered. Rámir sniffed at it, kicking his back legs up. His claws dislodged the snow and splattered it on Arya's legs. She gasped and jumped back. Rámir looked around and dropped his tail.

_Sorry, _he said. He turned around and staggered back as a lump of cold-white-snow hit his chest. Rámir jumped and swung around, looking for the danger but he just saw Arya laughing. Rámir growled, confusion in his thoughts.

_I don't understand, is this a game?_

_Yes, it is a game! _

With that, Rámir swiped his tail on the ground, sending snow flying. Arya shouted as it caught her on her front, despite her effort to dodge it. Rámir took to the wing as Arya gathered up another pile of glitter-white-snow. She threw at Rámir and it thudded into his wing. Rámir spun around in the air as he lost control for a second. He flailed his wings before the membrane caught the air again and Rámir flapped upwards. Rámir turned in a circle so he was facing the break-impact-ground and dove, tucking his wings into his sides. His tail streamed out behind him as he dove. Rámir extended his wings a second before landing, reaching with one of his front legs so that he was perilously close to the ground. He shot along the snow towards Arya and started to scoop up snow. His claws caught in the soil and his jarred his shoulder slightly but Rámir was so determined to win he didn't notice. Two seconds before impact with Arya, Rámir flicked his claws up, spraying Arya in the face with snow and he angled his wings so he pulled up in front of Arya and pointed his nose skywards.

Rámir turned neatly in a back flip and flared his wings to land in front of Arya. She was still brushing glitter-cold-snow off her shirt and trousers and she smiled as Rámir landed, a dragonish grin on his face.

_That wasn't funny! _Arya cried and Rámir chuckled.

_Yes it was._

Arya snorted and stroked Rámir's neck, getting snow in between his scales at the same time. He shivered from the piercing-shiver-cold. He shuffled his wings and shook his head, dislodging the snow. Arya laughed and now it was Rámir's turn to mutter, _Not funny._

_Yes it is funny._

Rámir's head shot up as the wind changed direction and he smelt something.

_What is it? _Arya asked and Rámir snapped, swinging his tail around.

_Someone's coming. _

Arya's hand flew to her sword and Rámir kneaded his claws into the snow. Once again, he kicked up snow with his back feet and got low onto his belly. Now Rámir could hear someone stumbling and slipping in the snow. Rámir flicked his tail as a boy came around a tent and Arya relaxed. Rámir remained tense although and the human-boy-hatchling paused several metres away, terrified of the dragon in front of him.

_Rámir, relax, _Arya said and Rámir straightened.

_Are you sure?_

_Very._

Arya moved forwards and Rámir sulked behind her as she moved forwards towards the messenger. He was looking nervously at the both of them but especially at Rámir and his glistening-dagger-teeth.

'Shadeslayer Arya, N-Nasuada requests you at her tent for s-something, I think for planning h-how to attack B-B-Belatona,' he stuttered.

'Thank you, Relath. You have done your job well,' Arya replied and Relath's lips twitched in a small smile. He scurried off as Arya turned to Rámir.

_Will you come? _she asked.

_Yes, _Rámir replied, his chest swelling up. _Anything to make sure you come to no harm._

_To make an impression? _she teased and Rámir growled. _Come then._

Rámir bounded over to catch up with Arya who had turned on her heel and marched off leaving footprints in the sharp-white-snow. As they walked, smelly-two-legs-humans came out of tents to have a look at them and Rámir slightly exposed his teeth. They would stare at Arya with awe and especially at Rámir. He kept close to Arya and walked next to her as an equal.

_I refused everyone of you and for good reason, Arya was my destined Rider and I am well pleased with my choice, _Rámir thought to himself and satisfaction appeared in his eyes when he saw a man scowl at the two of them as they walked along, no doubt disappointed about not being chosen.

_Because I can see from your reactions at how self-centred you are._

People came continued to come out and by the time that Arya and Rámir had arrived at Nasuada's pavilion, a small crowd had gathered around them. Rámir pressed up against Arya and he growled at anyone who got too close.

_Arya is my Rider and none shall harm her. If you do, you will have to get past me first!_

'Shadeslayer! Please heal my child!' a woman called out from the crowd. Arya looked around and snapped her eyes on a woman from the crowd. She shrank back in fright as Arya approached her and her breathing grew faster.

'Do not be frightened,' Arya said but the woman attempted to make herself even smaller.

'Please,' she begged with tears in her eyes. 'He was injured by a cart when playing. He is in immense pain and the wound is infected. My beloved child shall die without the proper treatment. Please, I beg of you, heal him.'

Arya smiled and reached out to touch the woman's hand. She flinched as the contact was made.

'Do not be frightened,' Arya repeated.

'Please,' she whispered.

'You have courage to speak out first amongst a crowd. Come to me later and I will do all in my power to help him.'

The woman's eyes filled with tears and she dropped to her knees, gripping Arya's hand tightly.

'Thank you, Argetlam! I thank you! What you have done has filled my heart with joy! I shall forever be grateful to you!' Arya touched her wrist with her other hand and the woman let go, her eyes shining with unshed tears. 'May the gods bless you, Shadeslayer.'

'And may the stars watch over you,' Arya murmured. The area had gone silent at this exchange and Rámir looked around at the two-legs-humans. He stood tall and proud and raised his wings before turning his head towards the woman. He stretched his mind out to touch the woman's and she flinched as Rámir's voice filled her head.

_The days ahead of you are filled with happiness. You have courage in you, know when to use it._

_Rámir, _Arya murmured.

'Nasuada awaits us,' Arya said both mentally and with her tongue. There was murmuring and Arya continued forwards. Four guards stood outside the red-canvas-pavilion. Two of them were short-beard-dwarves who Rámir towered over and the other two were long-horned-grey-skinned-Urgals. Rámir unfurled his wings slightly in order to appear bigger and he stretched his neck out.

_I am a dragon, I am the first among the Hunters, _thought Rámir but Arya quieted him with her thoughts.

'We're here to see Nasuada,' Arya said and the Urgal nearest to the entrance let the two of them through whist shouting, 'Arya Shadeslayer and Rámir Emerald-scales are here to see you, Lady Nightstalker.'

'Let them enter,' dark-skinned-not-much-liked-Nasuada replied and the two of them entered. It was a relief for Rámir to get out of the coldness of the snow shrouded world. Rámir smelt Nasuada before he saw her. When he saw her, his eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth slightly.

_Rámir, _said Arya again and Rámir looked at her quickly and pulled his lips back over his dagger-teeth. _Thank you, Rámir._

Rámir snorted and sank his claws into the ground. Nasuada looked from Rámir towards partner-of-his-mind-and-soul-Arya and lifting her chin.

'Thank you for coming, the both of you, on such a short notice. I had planned for more time but more time we do not have. You must have noticed the snow on the ground this morning. The Varden cannot move on with the weather like this. My plan is to wait until this snow fall has melted and then march with all hast to Belatona and then seize it before the next snowfall comes. I need to ask a favour of the both of you, Arya, especially that of Rámir. I need his wings.'

Rámir snarled and it filled the whole tent.

_Why do you need my wings? _he asked through Arya.

'Rámir, I need you to have a look at the weather patterns above to determine if it will snow sometime soon.'

Rámir probed with his mind until he found Arya.

_Should I do it?_

_I think you should. We need all the help we can to over throw Galbatorix and his Empire._

_But how am I supposed to know the weather…? _Rámir snarled with frustration as the words escaped him.

_I am sure Glaedr and I can help you. Let us see through your eyes and we will tell you. Do it._

Rámir lifted his wings and glared at Nasuada.

_I cannot fly to extreme heights yet, but I will do as you ask to the best of my ability, _he said through Arya once again. He saw Nasuada inwardly relax and he snorted. Humans could be so silly sometimes, constantly worrying. Humans started this war after all.

'I thank you, Rámir. Your help is much appreciated.'

_If I am to help you, when should I do this?_

Nasuada swallowed and looked from Rámir to Arya and back again.

'I would much appreciate if you did it today and as soon as possible. Now would be best.'

Arya looked at Rámir and stroked his head. Rámir sighed and closed his eyes.

_Let me prepare then._

Rámir turned to exit the pavilion with Arya close behind him, His heart was pounding at the prospect ahead of him but he would do it.

For Arya.

When he was outside, Rámir lifted his wings and took to the skies, the crisp-cold-clean-air thrumming against the membrane of his wings and he closed his eyes, the blood running in his veins, the cold air waking him up. Rámir saw Arya running below him and he sped up, wanting to get back to the tent first. Arya looked up at him and increase her stride, flying like a shadow between the tents. Rámir roared with delight at this and rolled over in a barrel roll.

_Come down, Rámir, _Arya called from the ground. Rámir climbed a little higher before tipping his nose towards the earth and falling. As the tent approached, Rámir opened his wings to slow his decent and began to flap them when he landed. Bound-to-him-Arya was waiting for him and she beckoned him inside the cloth-cave-tent. Rámir followed and found Arya walking over to the small table in the corner of the tent. She picked up a cloth wrapped bundle and went to the cot. Rámir followed and she stretched her living-being-life-mind towards the bundle.

_Master, _she called. A small light began to shine from within the blankets and Glaedr spoke.

_Arya, Rámir. You seek a favour of me, do you not?_

_Aye, _growled Rámir. Rámir explained with his feelings and thoughts as Glaedr listened. Arya watched this with confusion as the two swapped thoughts, memories, scents and feelings as their way of speaking. Few words were exchanged. When Rámir was finished, Glaedr was thinking it over in his mind.

_You need my help to identify these weather patterns that Rámir sees through his eyes? _Glaedr asked.

_Yes, master. So that the Varden can move on and not be caught by snowfalls. Nasuada asks if this could happen as soon as possible. We need your help._

_Of course. Oromis died fighting the Empire and I will do everything possible to avenge his death._

_Thank you, Elder, _said Rámir. Casting out his thoughts, Glaedr connected with Arya through their minds and through Arya, to Rámir. Rámir went outside, raised his wings and took to the air, straining against the air.

_Will you tell me what I must look out for?_

_Of course, Rámir. How would you know what to look for otherwise?_

Rámir flapped hard, his nose pointed skywards and towards the low soft-pearly-grey-cloud cover.

_Bring me into your eyes, Rámir, _instructed Glaedr.

_How? _Rámir snapped back, concentrating on the cloud looming in front of him.

_Bring me into your mind, Arya will help._

Rámir focused on Glaedr's thoughts and gave a sharp tug. Once more he tried and shook his head in amazement. It seemed as if another person, another life force had wriggled into his head so that they shared the same see-scenes-eyes, the same sockets and the same vision.

_Look up towards the clouds, Rámir, _Glaedr instructed. Rámir looked upwards towards the looming clouds. He flapped harder to get towards them. Glaedr thrilled at being able to be in Rámir's body, to feel wings pounding on either side of him and the coldness of the air tearing past his face. The clouds were grey and threatening. Rámir didn't like the looks of them and neither, it seemed, did Glaedr.

_Bad weather is nearly upon us. It seems that last night's storms were only the beginning._

_The beginning? _Rámir asked slowly.

_A taste of what it to come. This will be a bad winter. There's a storm coming and when it hits.…_

_How bad?_

_Bad. Terrible._

Rámir heard a loud crack and his head snapped up. The clouds were growing darker and as this played across Glaedr's vision, and far below him, Arya's, she screamed at him, _Rámir! Dive!_

_What? Why? _Said Rámir startled. _What is it?_

_Lightning._

Across their link, Arya sent him a picture of great split-skies-lights and the dreadful noise they would make. _Quickly!_

Rámir didn't need to be told twice. Clasping his wings, he dove, nose down as fast as he could. Another roll of thunder boomed above him followed by a sudden current of wind. Rámir was thrown sideways and he tumbled through the air. He had lost his balance once more and Rámir fought to get straight.

There was a flash of light close to him and Rámir screamed in terror.

_Rámir! _screamed Arya as Rámir fell, fell through the cloud cover and continued to fall.

_Rámir, listen to me! _Glaedr cried. _Straighten your wings to gain control of your flight before you attempt to dive again, trust me!_

_I trust you._

Extending his wings, Rámir struggled to catch a breeze because of the angle he was at but when he finally did, his racing heart calmed a degree and he continued his dive. The glitter-water-Jiet River was below him and the rebel-people-fighting-Varden were next to it, the camp getting closer by the second. Arya and Glaedr's voices were getting loud each metre he dropped. The wind had picked up down here as well and Rámir roared.

_Arya! _he cried. He followed Arya's trail of thoughts towards the section of the camp she was in and when he could touch the tent tops with his claws, Rámir caught sight of her standing outside of her tent. He wobbled in the air and gave one last effort to get to her. He was scared and tried and it was a relief for him to land in her arms, curling into a ball and shivering with fright from head to the tip of his tail. Arya hugged him, murmuring softly and he was glad of that.

_Arya, _Rámir sobbed. _Never leave me. Never._


	41. Chapter 41 -- To be There

41

**To Be There**

_'Come,' said Larka calmly, her voice echoing across the drop below her, 'bring it across the void. I will protect you.' _

**_– The Sight: David Clement-Davis_**

A knocking on the door woke Murtagh and he sat up in bed, groping for the knife he always kept under his pillow. He was quiet for a few seconds as he extended his mind towards the door. Here he met the mind of a young man and it was laced with fear. Gripping the handle, Murtagh padded towards the door and cracked it open. At the same time, he reached for his energy flow and raised his left hand slightly. He found a young man standing outside the door, not much older than himself and Murtagh lowered his palm but still kept the knife raised. The man was looking nervously as the blade.

'S-Sir, I was told to give you this,' the messenger said and handed a small scroll to Murtagh sealed with black wax. A coat of arms had been stamped into it. Murtagh snatched the scroll away from the servant, causing him to flinch and read:

_Murtagh, _

_I expect you and your half-brother to report to me by midday, I have a mission for the both of you in the town of Bullridge which cannot be ignored. When you come, you will pick up Zar'roc and be on your way immediately._

There was no signature and Murtagh crumpled up the piece of paper. He looked up to see the man standing in the doorframe.

'Why are you still here?' shouted Murtagh and the man scurried off down the corridor. He banged the door shut angrily and stomped back to his bed. Murtagh jumped on it, took one last look at the note and tossed it into the fire. It started to smoke, and then it caught alight and crumpled.

_Why is it always me? _Murtagh thought and he sank into the pillows. _Why can't that fool of a King get someone else to do it? Oh Thorn, why is it always us?_

_Well, someone has to do it, _grumbled Thorn and Murtagh snorted.

_Of course, but why us?_

_Well what do you do anyway if you aren't flying with me everywhere all the time? Grow fat and lazy and sit around? To become like Him?_

_Alright! There's a point._

_And to add to that, there are just some things that have to be done that a simple soldier or soldiers cannot do. Sometimes it takes and dragon and his Rider to sort out problems._

_Maybe it is to show Eragon his place.… _Murtagh put in and Thorn's thoughts quieted.

_Maybe, it's just so difficult knowing with the King._

_The bastard, _spat Murtagh. Thorn growled at this.

_Aye._

_But at least I'll be able to get Zar'roc back._

Murtagh dearly missed the sword's familiar weight at his side and the feel of it in his hand. It was like an extension of his arm, better than his hand and a half sword that he used to have before he stole Zar'roc from Eragon. The one thing he despised about the sword was its history. So many dragons, Riders and people slaughtered by the sword. Since bonding with Thorn, it now sickened him. He had always thought of dragons as unintelligent creatures, stupid in fact, because the only dragon he had seen was his father's, and by that time, he was nearly speechless. That was the only thing that Morzan had ever pitied.

Murtagh's stomach rumbled and he got up off the bed to get something to eat, collect Zar'roc, and to go to Thorn. But first, he had to find Eragon. This was another thing he hated. After all he had done for Galbatorix, capturing Eragon and doing countless things in the King's name and this is what he got as a reward: to look after Eragon. Eragon had been his one hope for getting out of Urû'baen, but now, Eragon was like him, trapped in Galbatorix's service. The one small hope that Murtagh had held close to his heart had died. Would he and Thorn find peace in this world? Ever?

_Our only hope now is to do this ourselves, Thorn. We don't have to go running to Eragon to do this!_

_Good. Once we have changed our names, we can help Saphira and Eragon. _Murtagh saw a quick image of a blue dragon on a cliff top, gazing out towards a sea, lit by a blood red sunset. Thorn quickly hid the image but Murtagh was grinning.

_What do you feel for Saphira, Thorn?_

_Never you mind._

Murtagh shook his head as he reached the door. He opened it and stepped into the corridor and walked quickly off towards the kitchens to grab something to eat. He paused, shaking his head and deciding to see Thorn first and eat later. He changed his direction to go to the dragon's hold.

As he passed his half-brother's room, he noticed that Eragon's door was shut and Murtagh shielded his mind before walking quickly down the corridor away from his half-brother's room, and once he rounded the corner, he began to run. Everything was slightly blurred before his eyes as he ran, due to the gifts of speed and strength that Galbatorix had placed upon him and his eyes had yet to catch up with his speed. The air was cold and his breath came in short clouds of freezing breath. Murtagh tore along the corridors, bypassing servants who flattened themselves against the walls, cowering in fright. Murtagh ignored them and he continued to run. He wanted to see Thorn as always and soon, he was pounding along the corridor that lead to the dragon's chamber. He skidded around the corner and came to a stop outside the door. He was panting and looked up at the guards.

'Let me see my dragon,' he said quietly and the guards hastened to obey, sliding back the heavy beams blocking the door. Murtagh crossed his arms impatiently and dug his fingernails into his arms. 'Hurry up,' he muttered quietly. When the door finally opened, Murtagh caught a glimpse of blue and black scales before Thorn came rushing out.

_Thorn._

_Murtagh. _Their minds melded, flowing over one another and they just stood there, sharing their thoughts as the two of them allowed the barriers surrounding their minds to fall away. Thorn nudged Murtagh with his snout and Murtagh ran his hands along Thorn's eye crests.

_Let us get out of here and prepare to leave, _said Murtagh, and Thorn agreed with a blink.

* * *

**MURTAGH **DUMPED THORN'S saddle on his bed and undid the straps holding the saddlebags shut. He wiped sleep from his eyes as he reviewed the things he had placed in the bag: a couple of changes of clothes which consisted of two cotton shirts and a pair of leggings; a hunk of sourdough bread along with a hunch a of venison and a box of seasoning; the small stone which he had used to heal Thorn's and his own injuries in battle, his bright steel armour and two scrolls. These were for his studies because even though he was away from Urû'baen, Galbatorix would expect him to be learning the ways of the Rider's. He opened one of these scrolls now and ran his eye over the words, words from the ancient language. The King had an entire library of these scrolls in the castle which he had stolen from Doru-Arabea. They were very near to priceless so Murtagh had been surprised when the King had given no more than eight to him.

Murtagh sighed and redid the buckles up, pulling sharply on the leather twice before proceeding to the last three on the end of the saddle. He opened one of the corners slightly revealing a soft glow from within before he shut the flap again. Murtagh always left the twenty five Eldunayra in the saddlebags. He hated touching them and, especially when every thought and feeling the dragon had was magnified into his mind. They were relatively small but each held so much energy, he didn't really care for the size, all that mattered to him was the power that each held.

_Murtagh, this is what Galbatorix would think about the Eldunayra; don't walk along this path._

_I haven't chosen to tread it! _snapped Murtagh. Thorn growled softly as Murtagh hoisted the saddle off the bed. He grunted at the weight and tottered towards the door. He set it down and opened the door, placing his foot next to it to act as a door stop and he swore quietly as his toes were trapped underneath it for a few seconds. Murtagh bent down and took the saddle up once more, letting the door swing shut behind him. It crashed shut as Murtagh disappeared around the corner.

He walked as fast as he could along the corridor and as always, anyone he met made their best attempt to look small and as always, he ignored them. The day was crisp and cold and Murtagh was glad he had packed an extra cloak. He was shivering when the garden came into view. Thorn had settled himself down near the pathway and he was looking at Murtagh with bright and sparkling eyes, the deep crimson depths unfathomable, woven with every shade of red.

Murtagh lowered the saddle to the ground with a grunt and stretched his back, glad to rid of the load. He rolled his shoulders and reached his hands towards the sky. He remained in that position for a few seconds before his arms dropped to his sides. He sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand before picking up the moulded leather once more and lugging to over to Thorn.

_Now?_

_Yes now. Come on!_

Thorn got to his feet as Murtagh swung the saddle over his back and ducking under Thorn's chest, he began to do up the straps. He tugged on them hard and Thorn snarled, _Murtagh, the straps are too tight. Unless you wish to choke me, it might be a good idea to loosen them._

_Sorry, I'm just distracted at the moment._

_I can see. What is it exactly that is distracting you?_

_The Eldunayra. I promised them peace in the ancient language and I have yet to fulfil that promise. I promised to smash them in the most binding of oaths._

_But you didn't say _when _you would do it. _

_That doesn't matter, Thorn! I promised and I will uphold that promise! _Murtagh's hands were shaking so he balled them into fists to stop the tremors. He swallowed and slumped onto the ground next to Thorn's foreleg.

_Oh, Thorn, help me! I am lost in a sea of confusion and being drowned by an ocean of promises and oaths._

Thorn spread his wings over Murtagh and swung his head around to look at his Rider.

_What kind of dragon would I be if I didn't look after my Rider? We are here for eachother, will be forever more and nothing can change that. Of course I will help you, did you think I would just leave you to defend yourself? To struggle through life while I just stood aside? You are my conscience and you are mine. We are here for the other._

_Thank you, Thorn. _His wing membranes were soft to the touch and Murtagh began to stroke them slowly. _Thorn my dragon, thank you. _Thorn began to hum softly and Murtagh's fingers moved from Thorn's wings to his nose.

Thorn's breath was warm and Murtagh closed his eyes, letting his emotions speak for themselves. They sat there for a few minutes before Murtagh heard the thudding of wings and he looked up to see a lone dragon in the sky. The sunlight caught the scales and they sparkled off the dragon's hide. Sapphire blue. Murtagh stood up as the dragon dived towards him. It flared its wings and came into land, making snow fly everywhere. Thorn stood up and bared his teeth slightly as the dragon came to land. Murtagh was buffeted by the winds that the dragon's wings were whipping up and he stumbled back into Thorn's foreleg, shielding his eyes from the flying ice. When the winds subsided, Murtagh looked up to see Saphira snarling quietly at him, a saddle clutched in her claws. Her mind was heavily shielded so Murtagh turned back towards Thorn. He was looking at the sapphire dragon closely and his nose was twitching, taking in her scent. He crawled forwards on his belly and Saphira snapped at him.

_Why do you crawl under her?_

_She is the elder dragon, _replied Thorn.

_I don't see you grovelling to Shruikan like that, _Murtagh shot back.

_He doesn't care, the lazy lump._

Saphira was regarding the two of them in a haughty manner so Murtagh turned his back on her. Soft footsteps made him look up to see Eragon with a pack slung over his shoulder coming down a flight of stairs. Saphira rushed over to him and he dropped to pack, placing his hand on her nose and closing his eyes. They stayed like that and Murtagh snorted, turning away. He dug his woollen cloak out of Thorn's saddle bags and wrapped it around his shoulders, holding it together with a clasp made of silver, moulded into the shape of a dragon's head, the eyes were glittering rubies, matching Thorn's scales. Thorn flicked his eyes towards and him and catching his intentions, followed Murtagh towards the double doors that lead to Galbatorix's throne room. He knocked twice, paused for a few seconds, and then entered.

The interior was lit by the fire cast from brackets as always, giving the place an eerie look. Thorn was close behind him and behind Thorn came Eragon and Saphira. They drew level and Eragon refused to meet Murtagh's eyes. Thorn swiped his tail across the floor and caught Saphira's side. She growled, showing her teeth and Thorn returned her look of pure hatred with just as much ferocity as she was giving him. Thorn's eyes had narrowly to slits and his wings were slightly raised in order to intimidate.

_Thorn, please, _Murtagh mumbled but Thorn ignored him.

_I am determined not to be the first to back down, _the dragon replied and Murtagh opened his mouth angrily.

_Thorn!_

'Thrysta vindr,' a voice said and there was a compression that for a split second, brought air together between the two dragons and the next, sent them flying in opposite directions. Murtagh shouted as Thorn crashed into the wall from hurt and anger. He heard a similar shout come from Eragon. Murtagh raced over to Thorn who was struggling to his feet, all of his teeth showing. Murtagh whipped around towards the throne, a furious scowl on his face. Galbatorix was watching all of this calmly as Murtagh stood up and strode into the middle of the room, pointing his finger at the King.

'You bastard!' Murtagh shouted. He closed his eyes and gasped with pain as something in his mind gave a painful twist. Murtagh stumbled and fell to the ground. Now it was Thorn's turn to roar.

'Silence,' snarled Galbatorix. He rose from his throne and swept down the steps towards Murtagh who stood on shaking legs. He was staring coldly at the young Rider, his fingers twitching towards Blödhald as if he would like nothing more than to pull out the sword and stab Murtagh with it.

_Hasn't it already slaughtered enough Riders? _Murtagh thought. His eyes were equally cold and the two of them looked at each other, hate gracing their faces.

'Enough of this,' Galbatorix snapped, breaking the eye contact. 'Damn you, Salcarthar! Where are they?' The thin man came sidling out of the shadows, two swords clutched in his arms. He thrust one of them at Murtagh and the other at Eragon. Murtagh buckled on Zar'roc at once and it was only then he felt whole again. Eragon had his sword on his hip now and he too was glaring at the King. He was still by Saphira's head and her quiet snarl filled the room. Galbatorix ignored them all.

'You must be wondering, Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn, why I brought you all here? Then it is not my place to tell you, it is his.' Galbatorix looked around towards a corner and a frightened whimper escaped from it. Murtagh squinted to get a better look and through the gloom, he could see the outline of a man. Eragon look unsurprised at this and turned his attention back towards Saphira. Thorn had come up behind Murtagh and raised his wings slightly.

_The man is a fool. His heart and soul are weak and pitiful._

'Get up and you might care to tell us why a scum bag such as yourself is here,' said the King in a deadly quiet voice. The man scrambled to his feet, taking his hat off and spinning it on his finger.

'Sir, pardon me sir, I am Arulan and I am the son of the Mayor of Bullridge.'

'Why do I care?' snapped Murtagh. Arulan flinched but continued.

'My father is ill and has been for the past two weeks,' he gabbled, talking faster when Murtagh opened his mouth to interrupt. 'Of course, I won't be disturbing you if it was only my father's health that gave me a reason to come here. No, but from the day he fell ill, some of us a saw a creature in the sky, a giant reptile of purest black. His eyes were a glowing green, his teeth terrible and his cry, his cry.…'

'Get on with it!'

'I'm sorry. I will get to the point. Some call the creature a dragon that weaves its way into our dreams, coiled around a gate of light. Always my father talks of the thing, it is always on his mind every second of the day. The reason for my visit is.…' He stumbled off into silence and stood there nervously with his hat between his hands.

'Go on,' said Galbatorix in a deadly quiet voice. Arulan looked frightfully at the King and continued. 'We keep hearing noises. Screams coming from the monster and whenever that happens, terrible things come about. Crops wither and die, my cousin's son is found in his bed the next morning cold as stone, lines of ants curl up and die all at once and the whole town develops a feeling of despair.'

Galbatorix looked from Arulan to Murtagh and Eragon.

'I want you to go to Bullridge and investigate this, the both of you. I do not know what this and I want it investigated. You,' – he pointed towards Arulan who flinched – 'can leave me now and go back to your riverside town.' Arulan bowed low and back towards the door, shaking with fright from the King and the dragons. He looked thoroughly pleased when he reached the doors. They boomed shut behind him and there was silence for a few moments before Galbatorix spoke again. 'Eragon, come here. There is something I wish to give to you before you go.'

Eragon stepped forwards and Murtagh could see the nervousness on his face. Galbatorix looked over into a corner and beckon with his finger. Two servants came to him, holding a stretcher and on the stretch was a suit of shining steel armour just like Murtagh's.

'I hope I can entrust this to you, Shadeslayer.' Eragon stepped forwards and Murtagh turned his back. He sighed and leaned against Thorn.

_Let's just go already! _he growled.

_Yes, I want to stretch my wings for it has been a long time since I have been able to fly somewhere other than here, _said Thorn.

'Go the both of you and I expect to hear from you soon.' Galbatorix's voice roused Murtagh and he looked around at Eragon and Saphira. His half brother was doing up the straps on one of Saphira's saddlebags and he was pulling unnecessarily tight on the leather. There was a scowl on his face and Saphira swung her head around, lightly touching him on the arm. Thorn snorted and turned around, lumbering towards the door so Murtagh hurried to catch up to his dragon.

The sun was climbing in the sky when Murtagh came out side. He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath.

_Climb up, let's go, _Thorn said gently. Murtagh placed his foot on Thorn's elbow and hoisted himself into the saddle, strapping his legs into the saddle and double checking the straps on the saddlebags. Thorn looked back at him, raised his wings towards the heavens and jumped, unfurling them and driving them down in four powerful strokes to gain height. Murtagh squinted, shielding his eyes from the brightness of the snow. He closed them and huddled closer to Thorn for heat, his breath smoky on the air.

_Let us be out of here. _There was a similar sound coming from behind him and he knew that Saphira was close behind him. Thorn angled his wings so that he was pointing in a North-East direction and swung his head around.

_To Bullridge, _Murtagh mumbled, Arulan's words on his mind.


	42. Chapter 42 -- Making Amends

42

**Making Amends**

_'But as I watched you, I began to remember the life of the Varg, and I longed for forgiveness, and for my sojourn in that terrible meadow to end forever.'_

**_– Fell: David Clement-Davis_**

Yet another stretch of crisp white farmland soared underneath them and Eragon groaned, turning around in the saddle. His back and neck were stiff from sitting in the same position for hours. His teeth were chattering and he hunched down in his cloak which was flapping out behind him. The tips of his ears were freezing and his fingers numb from clutching onto the neck spike in front of him. Eragon looked over towards Thorn and Murtagh to see his half-brother in the same position he was in. Fine ice crystals had formed on Saphira and Thorn's scales as they flew in the clouds and their breathing was shallow.

_Eragon, don't worry. Thorn and I cannot fly for much longer anyway. We have to stop for the night soon._

_Good, my back and neck are so stiff! _Eragon groaned.

_Just hang on for a little longer. _Her voice was soft and love radiated out of it so Eragon laid his head against her neck, his teeth chattering from the cold. He stayed like that for a few minutes before a conscience touched his own and Eragon hastily pulled up his barriers, concentrating on the neck spike in front of him until Saphira gently touched him with her mind.

_Eragon. It is Murtagh that wishes to speak to you. _Eragon looked over towards Murtagh who in turn was looking at him. Eragon slowly let the walls around his mind fall away so Murtagh could enter.

_It looks like a good time to land. It's getting dark and the dragons are tired. _

_I know. Where should we make camp?_

_Thorn spotted a good campsite below us. We should stay there for the night._

_Have it your way._

Thorn then pulled in his left wing and glided away before diving straight down. Saphira followed soon afterwards. His ears stung with the cold from the rushing of the wind as Saphira dove. He could see Thorn and Murtagh ahead of him, rushing towards the snow-covered ground. The wind was whipping Eragon's hair into an array and Saphira looked back at him out f the corner of her eye.

_Nothing beats the sport of flying!_

_You got that right! _Eragon shouted back at her. She twisted around in a corkscrew and Eragon laughed. Saphira continued her rotation until she was forced to stop and spread her wings to avoid crashing into the ground.

It was a barren expanse of land covered by a thick layer of snow, a ridge rose upon either side of them giving them some cover. The piece of land which Thorn had spotted was bowl shaped and would give them protection from the weather and from people if they were foolish enough to try and raid them. Thorn had already landed by the time Saphira touched down, there was an odd look in his eyes and before Eragon could get a proper look, he turned away. Eragon slid down Saphira's foreleg to get her saddle off. His hands were shaking from the cold so it took a while before the last buckle was pried loose. Saphira leaned slightly to the right and the saddle tumbled off, hitting the snow with a crunch.

_Good! That itches so much!_ At this, Eragon climbed up onto Saphira and began to scratch at her shoulders. A deep hum rose from her throat and she shut her eyes almost lazily. _Here. _Saphira's voice distracted him for an instant as she swung her tail towards the ground, clearing a patch of snow off the ground. Once again, her tail came around until a frozen patch earth was exposed. Thorn looked up at her and came over, seemingly to help but Saphira snarled at him, baring her teeth. He lowered his head slightly but his eyes hardened. Now Thorn lifted his lip slightly, showing his exposed teeth. Saphira snapped at him, a small jet off flame escaping from between her teeth. Eragon reached forwards to grab Saphira's neck spike, tensing his body in case she did anything unexpected. Saphira flicked her tail back and forth, watching the red dragon with narrowed eyes. He snorted and looked away, breaking the eye contact and Saphira relaxed, her claws sinking into the ground.

_Why must you and Thorn have such a rivalry? _asked Eragon in an exasperated voice. Saphira swung her head around and nudged Eragon on his arm.

_It is just our nature. We have been enemies for such a long time that it is our instinct to continue to fight one another._

_You must resolve this. We're stuck in Urû'baen so you just as well get used to him being around and being on the same side._

_That's going to be a challenge._

Eragon looked towards Murtagh who was once again looking at Eragon.

'I'll go and get some wood for the fire and can you get some of this snow and make Thorn melt it?' Eragon said and Murtagh nodded stiffly. Eragon trudged off and Saphira came with him.

_How are you going to find wood under all of this? _she asked him. Eragon ignored her and looked around, stretching his mind out at the same time.

_If I can find trees of some sort, _he told her after a while, _there is sure to be wood there._

_Of course._

_Did you see anything in the air?_

_Yes. There was a cluster of trees about half a league back but otherwise this stretch of ground is very exposed._

_Well, who would attack us?_

_Now you are being arrogant._

_Am not!_

_Of course you are._

Eragon's ears were red and he looked southwards where the last glowing rays from the sun struck the snow. He began to run and Saphira took to the air behind him.

_It might not be such a good idea to run._

_Afraid I will slip?_

_Yes. _Eragon laughed under his breath and looked downwards at his feet, placing each foot in front of the other with care. Saphira was like a guardian above him as he ran unlike the trip back from Helgrind or to Bregan's Hold.

_How different this is from those two times, _Eragon thought to himself. Saphira swooped around him as he ran. The wind was cold and there were loose but if snow that were disturbed by his feet and Saphira's pounding wings. The dislodged pieces flew back at him like small knives, stinging his face and turning his cheeks red. Eragon's toes were numb from the air and the snow as well as his fingers to add to his discomfort. A line of trees appeared on the horizon and Eragon sped towards them with renewed force. Saphira growled and accelerated, keeping her wings close to her body to match Eragon's speed.

Soon, he was among the trees. There were few of them but after foraging for a few minutes, he had gotten enough for a fire. Saphira lay watching him, a twinkle in her eyes. When Eragon was finished, she stretched out her leg in invitation.

_Care to ride this time?_

_Definitely._

He bounded up onto Saphira back and she raised her wings, taking to the skies. Bare minutes had passed until Eragon spotted Thorn's blood red scales and Saphira pulled her wings close, angling her nose towards the ground. They weren't far up so Saphira's dive was shallow and Eragon jumped off her when she was a few feet from the ground. He grunted as he landed, a piece of wood digging into his chest. He slipped slightly in the snow as he walked back towards the camp site.

Murtagh had gotten a pot of water and it sat in the snow, ready for whenever they would need it and he looked up from Thorn's side as Eragon walked into the camp area. He dropped the wood onto the ground away from the snow and set about stacking it in a cone shape. Murtagh just sat and watched as Eragon couched down, drawing his sword from its sheath before muttering 'Brisingr' to start the fire. At the same time, the blade of his sword flashed, catching alight and Murtagh yelped. Thorn growled under his breath so Eragon quickly put the smokeless flames out, enjoying the other's expressions. Saphira chuckled as well as Eragon coaxed the fire. Soon, it was crackling away as if it had been burning for a long while. Eragon sat and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He reached down for Brisingr and replaced it in the scabbard with some difficultly since he was sitting down.

'Why did that happen?' Murtagh asked from beside Thorn and Eragon looked over.

'I dunno what the exact cause of it is, but every time I say the sword's name in the ancient language, the blade catches.'

Eragon crawled over to Saphira and she draped one of her wings over him. The membrane was warm and Eragon could feel the hundreds of veins pulsing through the delicate skin in time to her great heart.

There was a silence between them for a long while, not one of them speaking. Eragon huddled close to Saphira for warmth, pressing himself against her warm belly. Her warmth and comfort was better than any cloak or coat and he was grateful for that, as well as being together. It was Murtagh who broke the stretching silence.

'Suppose I should start to make some dinner for us,' he grumbled and he got to his feet, crossing over to where he had placed the pot of water. He picked it up and walked over to the fire, placing the pot in the middle of the writhing flames. Leaving the pot to simmer, Murtagh walked over to Thorn's saddle, rummaging around in one of the saddlebags for something. He pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper and took it over to the fire. He sat there, waiting for the water to boil and while he waited, Murtagh unwrapped the package to expose a hunk of meat. Eragon sighed inwardly.

_You've done it before, _said Saphira and Eragon shut his eyes, placing his forehead against her.

_And I hated it. It makes me feel sick knowing where it comes from._

_Come, take comfort. _He felt better with Saphira by him and watched as Murtagh cooked the meat in the water, making another trip back to Thorn's saddlebags for seasoning and herbs. Soon the area was filled with the aroma of stew. Saphira's tongue darted out of her mouth to scent the air and sent a shiver down her great length.

_This reminds me of my own stomach. I think I shall go and hunt now._

_Take care then. _Saphira got to her feet, crouched, raised her wings and took to the skies, streaking away from them. Murtagh cast him a puzzled glance when Saphira went.

'She's gone hunting,' Eragon explained. Murtagh nodded and looked towards Thorn. He met his dragon's eyes and something passed between them. Thorn snorted, turning over and getting to his feet as well. Soon, he was gone as well. The two Riders sat there in a new stretch of silence. Eragon huddled in his cloak, a cold breeze sweeping through camp. The silence was awkward and Eragon was reminded of the night he first met Murtagh, both of them sitting on opposite sides of the fire. Eragon sneezed suddenly and Murtagh looked up at the sudden sound.

'Sorry,' Eragon mumbled and Murtagh resumed his earlier position, stabbing at the fire with a stick to keep it going.

'Are you sick?' he asked.

'Course not!'

'You keep snuffling and sneezing, that's why I only ask.'

'Do not!'

'Well, maybe not sneezing but definitely snuffling.'

Eragon ignored this last statement and turned his eyes towards the sky. The stars were cold, clear and bright, shinning down on the world as they did every night. Murtagh dipped a spoon into the stew to taste it. Appearing satisfied that it was cooked enough; he pulled out two roughly cut wooden bowls and poured some stew into each one as well as a spoon. He passed one to Eragon across the fire and he took the bowl, cupping it between his hands for warmth. Eragon muttered a spell under his breath over the bowl to detect poison. Finding none, he hardened himself for a mouthful and reached out for the spoon. He shut his eyes before taking the first bite.

The meat was well cooked, tender and perfect but Eragon choked it down, knowing where it came from and that the animal had once been full of life, a life that was ended only for food, for the flesh to be consumed by the residents of Urû'baen. The first bite was the worst but it got better as the meal progressed, though he was slow at eating it. At least the meal filled him up so his stomach no longer hurt from hunger. He was disgusted at himself but it was his only option to eat the meat. Eragon pushed his bowl over to Murtagh once he was finished, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees, staring into the fire. The flames had a slight tinge of blue to them, he noticed subconsciously. Murtagh shifted his position closer to Eragon but he look away from Murtagh.

'Why must you hate me so?' Murtagh said in a soft voice. Eragon looked over at him.

'Look what you've done to the people I care for. You killed my mentors, my foster father, you hurt Saphira by bring her to Urû'baen and just standing by and doing nothing, not even attempting to right your wrongs.'

'I am! I hate myself for not putting up a greater fight against Galbatorix when–'

Eragon threw Murtagh a furious look before turning his back on him, fingering Brisingr's hilt. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon could see Murtagh's hurt expression, his pleading eyes but Eragon tightened his arms even more.

'To think that we were friends once. To think that I trusted you once.'

'Trust me now,' Murtagh said in a low voice. 'Eragon, listen. We're stuck. Holding grudges is not going to help our situation, the least we can do is to resolve our differences. Neither of us is going anywhere in a short while so we may as well just forgive each other and get along.'

Eragon turned around to look at Murtagh.

'Are you asking me for my friendship?'

'The only person who cares about me now is Thorn. I would like to add another person to that list. Eragon, my life has been so lonely. You were the first person I met that I could see eye to eye with, and I would like it if I could do that again.' Murtagh sounded as if he meant it, as if he were truly sorry for his actions, as if he were pleading with Eragon to understand. As if to emphasis it, Murtagh added in the ancient language, 'I did what I did not out my own actions, but what Galbatorix made me do, and to protect Thorn. Can you understand that?'

Eragon was silent, thinking over Murtagh's words. If he had been captured and Saphira had hatched for him in Urû'baen and the both of them had been enslaved by the King, would he have taken the same path as Murtagh, to protect Saphira from harm? Of course he would have.

_I have to stop thinking of him so harshly. We're stuck in this mess together. The best hope of getting out of it is to work together, the four of us._

'I understand,' Eragon replied in a whisper, the words from the ancient language spilling off his tongue. Murtagh gave a small smile to himself before getting up and stretching.

'Thank you. It means so much to me that someone else doesn't hate me, enough people do, and nearly everyone does.' He looked over towards Eragon, one hand on Zar'roc's pommel and he looked down at Eragon, gesturing at the sword. 'Shall we duel, just like old times?'

Eragon smiled and got up, drawing Brisingr at the same time.

'I would be honoured.'

Murtagh grinned, drawing Zar'roc with a flourish and bringing the blade in front of his eyes.

'Don't think I'll go easy on you. I want to see how much you've improved over the past few months.'

'As do I,' replied Eragon, blocking Brisingr's edges with a word. Murtagh had done the same and then the two began to circle eachother, keeping low and their swords at the ready.

'So then, little brother, are you ready?' Murtagh called and Eragon smiled in reply, swing Brisingr in a circle by his side.

'But I think the question is, are you ready for me? Is your blade swift enough to match mine?'

'We shall have to see.'

Eragon yelled, springing towards Murtagh as fast as an elf and Murtagh lifted Zar'roc to block Eragon's blow. Their blades collided in a shower of sparks. Murtagh swung at Eragon with Zar'roc, but Eragon ducked under the blade. He dropped onto one knee and stabbed at Murtagh with Brisingr. He knocked the blade aside and began raining Eragon with a score of blows. Eragon retaliated by blocking the blood red blade and dashing in a few of his own in quick succession. Murtagh blocked Brisingr just as easily as Eragon was blocking Zar'roc and Eragon grinned.

Eragon swiped at Murtagh's legs and he jumped to avoid the blow, lashing out at Eragon at the same time. He swayed backwards to avoid the blow, placing his hands on the ground and kicking out at Murtagh's legs again with his boot. Murtagh swore loudly as he went tumbling to earth; bring up Zar'roc quickly as Eragon swung at Murtagh's head. Their blades clanged together as Murtagh rolled over, up onto his knees and jumping up quickly to block Eragon's next blow.

For a long while, they continued to spar and when Saphira and Thorn returned, they found their Riders hard at eachother and settled to watch, careful to place themselves on different sides of the fire.

* * *

**A **CHIRPING BIRD awoke Eragon the next morning. He sat up; hissing as a bruise on his back painfully announced itself. Saphira stirred as he woke up, drawing back her wing so Eragon could step out into the world. Thorn was still asleep, his tail curled around Murtagh's sleeping figure. They were both still lost in their world of dreams. Eragon smiled, leaving them be as Saphira opened her eyes, blinking and stretching her wings and legs. She shook her head, casting lights onto the snow which were reflected from her scales.

_Did you sleep well? _Eragon asked her.

_Yes, very well. It seems you have quite a bruise on your back. _At Saphira mentioning it, Eragon lifted up his shirt to expose a black-and-blue bruise about as wide as his foot tattooing his side. He sighed and the mark twinged slightly as he exhaled.

_At least Murtagh got bruises like that as well last night, _Eragon said and Saphira chuckled softly.

_Have you forgiven him?_

_Mostly, but not entirely. You must understand that he and Thorn have been in a difficult position for the past few months._

_I know, but some of their actions have been unforgivable, such as killing our masters and Hrothgar._

_Aye, I'll never forgive them for that. But you saw it with your own eyes. Surely you can understand that it was not Murtagh's fault that… _Emotion caught in Eragon's voice and Saphira great mind swept through his, brushing away his worries.

_I think they will never forgive themselves either, seeing what Murtagh said to you last night._

_I know. I just don't want to think about the whole thing! Seeing it once was bad enough, but every time I remember it, or think about it or I have to talk about it, it pains me to think of how we saw it, but how we were unable to help them, to stop Murtagh, Thorn and Galbatorix doing it._

_I know your discomfort for I share the same feelings._

_Discomfort? _Eragon snarled and Saphira backed away slightly. _Discomfort was the wrong word. I feel a hundred times worse. Pain and agony would be better words. _He stopped there; sensing Saphira's emotions and he said in a more gentle voice, _I'm sorry. I didn't mean that._

Saphira touched him on his arm with her snout. _I forgive you._

_Thank you. I feel horrible now._

Saphira's mind brushed against his own and he could feel how sorry she was, the pent up anger at the two people sleeping just a stone throw away and her asking for Eragon's forgiveness. The Rider and dragon stood there for a while longer, their thoughts and feelings mixing together before the other pair stirred, waking up to a new day. Thorn's tail unwrapped from around Murtagh as he sat up, a bruise stretching across his forearm. He looked around to see Eragon and Saphira silhouetted against the rising sun.

'Eragon,' he said, getting to his feet and rubbing his arm, 'how long have you been awake?'

'Not long, maybe twenty minutes.'

'You should have woken me and Thorn. We need to go; the King will be expecting a report.'

Saphira turned, her claws skating against the rock hard earth. Eragon followed her, picking up her saddle and strapping it on her. Murtagh was doing the same with Thorn's saddle. Before mounting her, Eragon took out his cloak from one of the bag along with a brooch. It was silver and the metal had been twisted in intricate patterns and a sapphire had been set into the middle. Eragon fastened the cloak around his throat with this and climb up on his perch onto of Saphira.

After he had strapped his legs into the saddle, Saphira crouched, raised her wings and bounded into the air, unfurling her great wings at the same time. The air strained against the membrane as she flapped, gain altitude with every stroke of her wings. Thorn was close behind her and Saphira turned her wings to catch a crisp cold breeze heading in a northern direction. She angled herself slightly to the right and started her course towards Bullridge.

* * *

**TWO **HOURS PASSED before Eragon spotted Bullridge low on the horizon next to the rushing Ramr River. So long ago, he had crossed this same river with Murtagh and a badly injured Arya but now, now this was so much different.

_Can you see it? _Eragon asked Saphira and she nodded slightly in reply as well as saying, _Not only that, but I can smell the place as well. The air has a sharp scent of fear on it as well as something else. This is no human scent. It smells of a battlefield, it reminds me of bloodshed and suffering. I smell the aroma of death, but it is faint._

Eragon was startled.

_Death?_

_Yes, I will never fail to recognise that._

Eragon's heart hardened and he shook himself.

_Come on. Let's get there first and then we can investigate._

It was a few minutes later that the two dragons began their descent, landing in what appeared a town square. A handsome villa made of white marble overlooked the area and on either side of this villa, laid other houses obviously belonging to rich lords and ladies. Eragon could sense frightened minds throughout the whole town but he ignored those, concentrating on a small party coming out of the villa to meet them. A sweeping wind behind him told Eragon Thorn and Murtagh had landed. Eragon dismounted after undoing the straps on his legs.

_The scent has grown stronger. The cause of it is near, _Saphira told him and Eragon mentally nodded in reply. He was still watching the people coming towards the four of them. After arriving near them, a man dressed in furs rushed over, kneeling in front of the two Riders.

'We received your message,' Eragon started and the man looked up at him.

'You spoke to my brother then?' he said in a small voice.

'The idiot with the hat?' Murtagh put in. Eragon scowled at him and turned his attention back to the man.

'You required our assistance?' Eragon asked. The man stood up, an urgent look in his eyes.

'Yes. Two weeks now, that thing has been here.'

'What thing?'

The man flung his arm out towards the villa.

'_That _thing!'

Eragon looked towards the villa. Nothing seemed the matter with it.

'I don't…'

_Eragon, above, _Saphira said gently. Eragon's eyes strayed upwards and he gasped.

Above the villa, twisting in the air was a giant something. Eragon squinted. It was black and it seemed like a balled up mass coiling and uncoiling above the house.

'It's a serpent,' Murtagh said. An end of the thing seemed to detach itself from the mass, looking at them with piercing, poison green eyes. The hair on the back of Eragon's neck prickled as the serpent unwound itself, coming towards them. It opened its mouth and an unearthly screech issued forth from it.


	43. Chapter 43 -- Battle for Belatona

43

**Battle for Belatona**

_He only knew that twelve feet of rat was coming at him and the long anticipated fight had begun._

_ **– Gregor and the Code of Claw: Suzanne Collins**_

The Varden's camp was hushed. Not because of people being quiet, but because they were marching against the walls that formed Belatona. The Varden had arrived at the city two days ago and laid in wait for the right opportunity to strike. Nasuada had ordered the attack tonight so the Varden were marching out under the cover of darkness. Two of the city's soldiers stood on the battlements. One of them held a steaming mug of tea while the other was watching the night, looking over the land.

"Erand, you sure you don't wanna cuppa?" the soldier with the tea asked and the other, Erand, turned back towards his friend, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Snow had started falling softly again and his breath formed into clouds before his eyes.

"Nay, I don't drink tea."

"Dermit has fixed up a broth as well. Quality deer roasted all over. The meat is beau'iful and golden all over, cooked to just the right degree. Any simple fool couldn't resist such a meal!"

Erand smiled and turned back to watching the night. "I am no simple fool. Those cursed rebels are out there somewhere. They've been deadly quiet; it's giving me the chills."

"Some peace for us then!" he companion shouted, "And tell you what, it's not those sorry bastards givin' you chills, 'tis this weather. You keep standin' out there and you'll be 'n icicle by morn. Come in and have a quick mouthful."

"I said, no thanks," Erand replied. The soldier shrugged, walking along the battlements towards a guard room. Several candles sputtered as he opened the door and he disappeared inside, swinging the door shut behind him. Erand turned back towards the cold night, now wishing he had followed his companion. It was deadly cold and he wished for a fire.

"Blimey. How can those Varden survive out there in the winter?" Erand asked himself yet again. He was freezing, it was true and he considered his options: abandon his post for a few minutes to get some broth and be warm; or stand out here on his post and slowly freeze. His friend's option was becoming very welcoming.

_No one will know that you left your post for a few minutes, _Erand told himself. He picked up his pike and made his way along the battlements, his feet sinking into the snow. Erand knew that Dermit had a good reputation for cooking. He had never had one of Dermit's meals so Erand was expecting this to be a good broth. Venison was one of his favourite meats so he was looking forward to standing on the battlements with a hot bowl of good broth in his hand. A rumble pierced the air and Erand blinked at the unexpected noise. He was hungry after all so he doubled his speed along the wall.

Erand came to the guard room and reached out to push the door open. He stopped; something seemed wrong. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and he turned to face the night, squinting into the dark. Then he heard it, a low buzz. Erand recognised the sound at once and he twisted, diving down but he still too slow to avoid the arrow that appeared out of the night, striking him in his neck. Erand cried out, falling onto the floor and slowly slipping off the walkway. Fire rushed up his neck and he panicked, seeing the fletching of the arrow out of the corner of his eye. His breath was caught in his throat, he couldn't breathe and his lungs cried out for air. Erand automatically opened his mouth but no air came into it. He was like a fish out of water, gasping for the air but none came to him. The snow behind him was sprayed with his blood as he fell, his conscious slipping, fading away.

_Give into the pain; at least you'll like it where you're going, _a dim voice echoed in his head. Erand silently gave into it and he passed into the unknown.

The soldier rushed out of the guard room. He had heard someone cry out in the night. He looked around for Erand and saw nothing. Someone else came up behind him.

"Gonfer, what the blazes?" Gonfer was looking at the walkway; he had just spotted something which made his blood turn to ice. A patch of bright red snow covered the doorstep of the guard room and Gonfer had no doubt about whose blood it was.

"Erand," he said. He turned towards the night and had no doubt about what had happened. "Those cursed Varden!" Gonfer screamed. Gonfer dived inside, snatching at an ivory horn resting on the desk in there. He rushed back outside, placed the horn at his lips and blew one long note. Two more times the horn's note rang in the dark before others began to take up the call.

"Gonfer," another man said. Gonfer turned back to him, his eyes full of sorrow and his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Someone killed Erand and that only can mean one thing: The Varden will attack us. Tonight."

* * *

**ARYA **LOOKED AROUND her tent for her helm and saw it lying next to her cot. She scooped it up, tucking it under her arm and with her other hand, grabbed her sword which was lying on the bed.

_Arya, I just heard a horn from within the city. They know that we're here, _Rámir said from outside. Arya sighed, coming out of her tent to find Rámir waiting for her. He was still growing at an alarming rate. He now towered over her and he had been forced to sleep outside due to his size. Arya could now sit in the junction between his shoulders though she refrained from flying with him. One point because he was still too small for him to support her weight in the air and the second reason was she still wary of flying with him.

Her first time riding a dragon had been when she was unconscious and badly injured, Arya had noticed Saphira under her and she'd panicked but had not awoken. Then, there had been other times, such as the battle of Feinster but those had only been short flights so Arya hadn't been too fazed by that. Since Rámir had come into her life, there was now simply no denying the fact that she would have to fly on more than one occasion.

_Come on, _Rámir said. He crouched, taking to the air in one giant bound. Arya smiled, running after him and placing her helm on her head and her sword on her hip while she ran. Arya heard multiple horns echoing throughout Feinster now and she doubled her speed, Rámir flying low and fast over head. A dog was barking somewhere nearby and Rámir snorted, roaring in response. Arya heard a frightened yip from the creature before it became silent. Rámir shivered, looking down at Arya who asked him in return, _Can you see Nasuada anywhere?_

_I will try, _Rámir said. He flew higher, looking around until he saw four people standing atop a hill in the distance. _There. _He sent Arya the image and she swung to the right, Rámir following her. Now that Arya knew where to look, she could see Nasuada astride Battle-storm on the hill. As Arya and Rámir approached, the horses skittered away from the dragon slightly as he came into land. The other three people on the hill were King Orrin, Jörmundur and Nar Garzhvog who stood as tall as a horse, his horns spiralling up into the skies.

Nasuada turned when Rámir landed, taking in Arya's armour. She swung around to confront Orrin and they had a quick discussion in whispers. Orrin scowled, jabbing at Arya and Rámir with his finger while Nasuada cut him off angrily.

_They want us to fight, Rámir, _Arya said quietly.

_I know. I want to fight and you do to._

_Only to protect those I love. I do not relish in war._

Jörmundur rode up to where the two leaders were arguing, a frown on his face as he heard what Nasuada and Orrin were talking about. Everyone's eyes kept darting over to the Rider and dragon who stood there in the dark, awaiting orders. Finally, Nasuada came over, a determined look on her face. Behind her, Orrin had a scowl on his face and he was half listening to Jörmundur who was talking in a hushed voice.

'Arya, Rámir,' Nasuada started. There was a slightly nervous look on her face which she tried to keep hidden but failing slightly. 'I think it would be wise if you did not participate in this battle.' Rámir growled in surprise and Arya was also slightly taken aback.

'Why not?' she asked in a deadly quiet voice. Her hand had gone to her sword and she was squeezing the handle tightly. 'Rámir and I can fight. Not for glory but to protect others.'

'I say no because what if one of you were to die? Rámir cannot hold your weight yet for he is too small. Eragon and Saphira's advantage in battle was Saphira's size. I'm worried that Rámir is too small for battle. He will be targeted and possibly killed. How would be able to fight the Empire then? How will we get Eragon and Saphira back?' Arya's eyes flashed with anger and Rámir growled a warning.

'Is that what you see us as then, Nasuada?' Arya said. 'A tool which would be set aside once we get a more powerful weapon back under your control? Rámir and I are not tools for your bidding, _Nightstalker_, I have not sworn myself to you and Rámir and I are only help the Varden out of our own will. Would you prefer it if the two of us left for the elves and left you to fend for yourselves if you only see me as a disposable weapon? Should I go and pack up my tent and belongings and be on my way?' The threat hung in the air and Nasuada's expression intensified. Arya raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

'Please stay. I just do not wish for either of you to be killed,' Nasuada said slowly. 'Battle is dangerous as you well know, Arya. And you also know that Rámir is only a month old. He isn't ready to be caught up in a battle on this scale. The first time Eragon and Saphira were caught up in a battle of this scale was when Saphira was already several months—"

'You're doing it again,' said Arya angrily, 'comparing me and Rámir to Eragon and Saphira. Is that all you can think about? How great Eragon and Saphira are compared to Rámir and myself? Be grateful at least that you have a Rider on your side.'

_Saphira may be a great dragon and Eragon a mighty Rider, _Rámir snarled, _but you don't have them now. You have Arya and me and you always will unless we decide to march to the elves or we get captured or killed. What I'm trying to say is that you may not always have us to hide behind._

'Hide behind?' Nasuada raged. 'How dare you?'

_Yes, I dare, _Rámir roared. _We have as much right to fight as you do. Even though I may be small, my fangs and claws are just as sharp as they will be when I am a year old, even a thousand._

'Yes, but all I am saying is that Rámir will be an easy target,' Nasuada said in a frustrated voice. 'And not only that, he is unexperienced.'

'And the way to gain experience is to participate,' Arya cut in. Rámir nodded in agreement. Nasuada's face was hard and she sat upright in the saddle. Her back was stiff and her eyes flashed.

'All I am trying to say,' she said, 'is that it might be an idea to not take part in this battle. There will be many more to come and Rámir can gain his experience in one of those. He is simply not old enough!' She shouted the last words. Arya opened her mouth angrily but someone else said, 'Nasuada is right. Rámir is barely a month old. Do you see us sending children to battle?' Arya looked over to see Jörmundur glaring at her and the emerald dragon. 'Arya, I understand how you feel. I had a family to look after once, people who I cared about. You want to fight to protect them, slay and kill so they don't harm your loved ones, but sending you into battle with Rámir at the age he is now is not a good idea. I have had many years experience in this.'

'Not in this type of fighting,' Arya said angrily.

'But enough like them to know that Rámir is not old enough! He will be slaughtered the minute you look away.'

'How do you know?' Arya screamed. Jörmundur flinched and said in a gentle voice, 'Arya, it's true I do not know how strong the bond between a Rider and dragon is, but I have seen you two and Eragon and Saphira to gain a jist of it.

'You feel the other in your mind, even part of your body. The other is part of you. Imagine if one of you was torn away suddenly. Arya, the thing that started this war was arrogance. Think about that.'

Jörmundur turned his charger around and galloped off down the hill.

_His words are true, _Rámir said. _Arrogance was the thing that started this war and it may be our undoing._

_What do you think? _Arya whispered.

_I want to fight, I do, but Jörmundur's words have truth behind them. I am young, that is true and how many children do you see in battle? _Arya bit her lip and gave no reply.

'Well?' Nasuada asked in a steely voice. 'Have you come to a decision?'

'Yes,' said Arya.

_We will fight another day, _Rámir said, finishing the sentence. Nasuada nodded. 'I see. I shall see you later then. Good day.' As she turned away, Arya saw a glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she urged Battle-storm after Jörmundur. Orin looked over at Arya for a second before following the other two.

_We will fight another day, _Rámir said softly, touching her arm. Arya slumped, rubbing Rámir's snout.

_We will._

Arya cocked her ear to the wind and Rámir looked up as well, his teeth exposed slightly. They could hear screams, the twanging of bowstrings and above that, the heavy booming of the Varden's battering ram pounding against the city's doors. Small dots of light flew around the place from army to army. The screams of the dying and the injured echoed on the air and Arya turned away. Rámir stopped, his body ridged.

_Rámir?_

He didn't respond. He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed, flicking his tongue out at the same time.

_There are two horses coming at high speed towards us._

_Two? Do you recognise them? Or their riders?_

_No. They don't come from Belatona. They smell wet as well._

Arya crouched down on the ground, laying her hand on the earth. She could feel a faint tremor in the ground but that might have been coming from anywhere.

_Which direction?_

_North-east. A male and a female._

Arya stood and extended her consciousness outwards. Frightened thoughts came to her mind from insects, animals and other things. _Fighting! Fear! Fire! _they screamed. _Horses! Men! Fighting! _Arya strained her ears, she could pick up the distant sounds of horses hooves coming from the direction that Rámir had indicated. She was ignoring the battle for a few seconds, concentrating on the incoming horses. One of the Riders seemed to be fleeing from the other and kept shaking the reins, determined to outrun the other rider.

_Rámir, can you get a better look in the air?_

_I don't see the point; they'll be here in a couple of minutes._

_True._

Now the sound of hoof beats was audible through the dirt and now Arya could hear the horse's panicked thoughts, although the mind of the rider was shielded. This horse was obviously carrying the woman. She kept glancing back at her pursuer, kept digging her heels into the horse's sides even though its neck was coated in sweat. The creature was exhausted but still it came on. The woman looked forward once again and she pulled on the reins out of fear as she saw Arya and Rámir standing on the hillside. The horse slowed down a bit obviously relieved but as the woman looked over her shoulder and saw the man pursuing her, she gulped, made up her mind and galloped forwards towards the Rider and dragon.

_She's scared of him, very scared if she's come galloping towards us, _Rámir said. _Something seems familiar about her like a distant memory as if I've felt her mind before._

_That's strange._

_Incoming. _

Arya turned around as the horse climbed the hillside sliding to a stop. Its neck was covered in white sweat which encrusted the corners of the creature's mouth as well which was blistered badly from the bit. The woman cast a frightened glance as Arya before giving the reins another shake.

'Letta!' cried Arya. It wasn't magic but the horse didn't obey its rider.

'Please! Let me go!' the woman shouted.

'Not until you tell me why you are fleeing from this man.'

She screamed and fell off her horse, scrambling over to Arya for protection as the other horse began to climb the hill. The man pulled back on the horse he was riding which was equally as exhausted and jumped off, sword in hand.

'Shadeslayer! Why do you shield her?' He walked with a pronounced limp and he winced whenever he placed weight on his left leg, as if each step he took pain him.

'Who are you?' Arya demanded. Rámir growled to emphasis the point but the man didn't back down.

'I am Robert and Nasuada sent me to Urû'baen under the command of Fembor.'

Arya stared.

'Where are the others?'

'Dead, Shadeslayer. I barely made it out alive and I was wounded in the process. I had an arrow through my leg.' Upon saying this, he swept aside his cloak to reveal his left leg. The material of his pants was covered in blood and over that, the wound had gained a spongy white appearance. Robert shifted his gaze to the woman behind Arya and she cringed backwards. 'All of this is her fault!' he bellowed, attempting to take a step forwards but Rámir growled, sensing Arya's intentions.

'First of all,' she started in a low voice, 'why do you wish to harm this woman?' Angry tears came into Robert's eyes then and his sword began to tremble.

'If not for her, Shadeslayer, Argetlam and Brightscales would be here now.'

'And how so?' Arya wasn't angry yet but she was close to it. First she would hear Robert's story before she made any judgments over the woman behind her. Robert leaned back on his horse. He looked slightly sick and Arya guessed that came from his leg. He pointed his sword at the woman and said in a low voice, 'Don't think about going anywhere.' She swallowed and as if to emphasis this point, Rámir reached out for her and grabbed her around the middle in his claws. The woman's eyes widened and she struggled a bit.

_Stop or I shall sit on you, _snarled Rámir to everyone and the woman stopped struggling and slumped. Arya turned back to Robert and asked in a low voice, 'Can you tell me everything?'

'Of course, Shadeslayer,' Robert said. 'Galbatorix had brought Eragon to his throne room and you'd had better pray you never set foot in there. The place is frightful and I used to hear stories as a child of the terrors that went on in that room but I never believed them until a few weeks ago that is. I was stationed by the door in the disguise of one of the guards when the King started to talk. It was like a snake whispering in your ears, a tongue coated in honey but spilling lies all the time, as if that was the only thing it could do.

'"It has been a while, Eragon," the King said. "I have been carefully studying the last set of your memories and after many hours mulling over them, I have come to collect the last of them. You and your pitiful dragon will soon be under my complete control and you shall join your brother and his dragon in my service."

'I shivered at that. I knew I had to alert Fembor and the others to say we had to get Shadeslayer and Brightscales out that night. And then, well, I'm no magician but I know that the king invaded Eragon's mind and he sat there, shivering for minutes and then at a point, his muscles got all tense. I knew that a huge battle raged between them, but then, the king fell back with a horrified look on his face.

"'No, no,' he whispered then he fixed his eyes on Shadeslayer and you should of seen the hate that rolled off him in burning waves. 'Brom. Curse you, Brom,' he shouted and added in a thunderous voice, 'This ends now; you shall be mine by sunrise!'

"So it continued and I had to watch that whole thing happen, bit by bit. The worst thing was I knew what was happening yet I could not stop it, could not help the man that every single soul in the Varden is relying on.'

Arya felt a small twinge in her gut here.

_Do people think you and I are unimportant, Rámir? That we cannot help people?_

_Maybe we just have to show people what we can do first. They have more experience in the ways of the Riders than you are I do and only time can change that._

Arya listened to Robert for the next few minutes as he wove an epic story about how Saphira had crashed through the floor after the woman, Monica her name was, had come after the two of them holding a knife. The desperate escape plan that Robert had talked about with Fembor then how Monica had betrayed them, letting out a scream as a group of soldiers passed outside. Arya's anger tightened as she heard of the battle for freedom which had taken place and then Eragon and Saphira's attempted escape which ended with Galbatorix confronting the two of them.

'Then.… Forgive me, it is hard to explain, but the King lowered his voice and said something in a real quiet voice that none of us could hear. There was silence for a few seconds and then I heard them, both Shadeslayer and Flametongue, both howling to the stars as they lost something it sounded like.'

'Their freedom,' Arya whispered. She sat on the ground and tears came to her eyes. 'Why?' she whispered. She looked over towards Monica and her hate, her rage at that woman got her up off the ground, got her marching over towards her and made her hand fly at inhuman speed. The sharp sound from that slap echoed around the area. Arya's chest was heaving from rage and hurt. She had broken the skin on Monica's cheek but the woman had not cried out, not even resisted but just sat, waiting for the punishment to come.

'How could have you done that?' Arya screamed and she turned her back to hide the cascade of tears that flooded down her cheeks. She stood tall and proud on the hill, one hand on her sword and she was silhouetted against the orange flare of fire that came from Belatona. She stood there and listened to the screams and the clashing of swords, the sound of war, the sound of Belatona falling under the Varden.


	44. Chapter 44 -- You will be my Perfect Swo

44

**You will be my Perfect Sword**

_"…A lone warrior waging a brutal fight..."_

_ **– The Girl who could Fly: Victoria Forester**_

Eragon drew Brisingr in a flash and the sword's blue blade shone in the early morning sunshine. The serpent seemed to be swimming through the air and its poison green eyes were staring at him hungrily. Saphira was crouching beside him, her tail twitching and a growl on her lips. She roared and pounced at the creature when it got close, slashing at it with her great talons. But it did not draw blood, her dagger like claws just passed through the serpent. She yelped with surprise as she came crashing onto the ground. Eragon swung Brisingr in an arch when the serpent was close enough but it once again passed through its head, just as Saphira's claws had done.

The great snake hissed and came around to face Eragon, the coils glittering in the sunlight. Now that it was still for a second, Eragon could see it properly. It was close to sixty feet long and there was a ring of spikes on its head, the sharper ones at the top. The pupils were narrowed black slits and once more, there were spikes circling the last six feet of the tail transforming it into a giant club. On top of that, Eragon noticed that the great beast was slightly transparent. He could see Murtagh drawing Zar'roc on the other side of the snake's body and the muscles in Thorn's legs rippling as he prepared to pounce.

The snake lashed out with its tail and it swung at Eragon's chest. He brought Brisingr to his side to block the tail and as before, it passed straight through the blade but the next bit was unexpected to Eragon. It was as if someone had given him a great shove in his side and he was lifted into the air. Eragon panicked and turned in the air, spying a wall of a house and he got his legs under him. His feet touched the wall and he pushed off, sailing through the air so he landed back on the ground on his feet.

_Blast! We can't hurt whatever that thing is but it can hurt us! It must be some kind of magical creature._

_Obviously, _Saphira put in. She had renewed her attack on the snake and her claws were just passing through the flesh. _How many snakes at the bottom of the garden do you see this size? And how many cannot be harmed by sword or claw?_

_I know! There must be a way we can hurt it._

Saphira snarled as she inhaled, filling her lungs with air. She bellowed at the serpent and at the same time, a great tongue of flame exited her jaws in a fireball. It did the great reptile no harm and as with everything they had tried, it passed through the snake.

_Why will nothing work? _Saphira screamed in a frustrated way. Murtagh was fighting just as hard and his expression a snarl as he swung Zar'roc, but still, it did the snake no harm. Thorn was fighting just as hard as Saphira and she barely had time to growl at him when he crashed into her side. The snake was ignoring them all and its eyes were trained on only one person: Eragon.

_ENOUGH! _The voice was loud and demanding, containing a slight hiss. Eragon clapped his hands over his ears and curled into a ball. Saphira's roared was converted into a whimper. Thorn let out a yowl and retreated, his body low to the ground. Murtagh howled and had his head in his hands, Zar'roc forgotten by his side. The serpent looked around at them all and then his eyes returned to Eragon. _No one can harm a true immortal._

_True immortal? _Eragon recognised Murtagh's voice and there was anger in his eyes. _I am immortal!_

_But you can sssitll die. I am the only true immortal to walk thisss land. Thisss is why you cannot harm me but I can harm you._

_What are you then? _Eragon was confused by this new voice. It was male and it reminded him slightly of Glaedr. His eye caught Thorn and he realised. The serpent took his eyes off Eragon for a second to look at Thorn and a hiss could be heard throughout the area.

_I go by many namesss I do, but I am the Death Bringer, Guardian of Ssspirits and Death'sss Pet. I come for one sssoul._

Just as suddenly as it had come, the link with the serpent's mind snapped and it screeched, whipping its tail around the area and began to slither through the air towards the villa. Eragon thought it would smash into the wall but as it reached the wall, it went straight through the stone and continued through. At the same time, Eragon heard a great rushing of air and a drawn out wail and the serpent re-emerged out of the building. Something was trailing after it and Eragon thought it was a sphere. The snake swung his head around and locked eyes with Eragon. He heard the voice once more in his head. _Find me in the place you dessspair. _The serpent threw back its head and began to disappear slowly, fading in the light filtering through a layer of clouds. After a few seconds, it was gone.

Eragon shook his head slightly as light popped in front of his eyes.

_Eragon, what happened? _Saphira hissed as she came over to him, snaking her head around his body and resting her jaw on his shoulder.

_It told me to find it, find it in the place where I despair._

_Where would that be? _Eragon thought hard. The first places he thought of were battlefields; the one thing he disliked was walking through a battlefield. The air there was thick with despair. Then Urû'baen crossed his mind, but something told him it wasn't that. Of the glade where Arya had refused his love. Arya. He could picture her perfectly in his mind's eye, her slanted emerald eyes and her raven hair, fanning out behind her as she danced at the Agaetí Blödhren all that time ago. Her laughter echoing through the trees over those three nights.

_Don't think about her, _Eragon told himself angrily. _She didn't love you, you must get over her! Find another elven woman! Don't set your heart on Arya! She refused you, remember? Get over it!_

But he couldn't get over it, he just couldn't for his heart was set and he knew that it would never shift for someone else. He missed Arya dearly and as that thought crossed his mind, a new one came to it. _Does she miss me? And Saphira? _Eragon closed his eyes and felt tears leaking under the lids. He wiped them away angrily, sniffing at the same time. Eragon saw Brisingr lying on the ground some way off and got up off the ground, walking over to it and stooping, picking it up by the handle. He slid it back into the sheath and as usual, it clicked into place.

_Does she miss me? _he asked himself again. _For I miss her…._

_Oh, Eragon, I'm sure she misses you, _Saphira said in a gentle voice. Eragon smiled faintly, placing one hand on Saphira's nose.

_Thank you._

'Eragon.' Eragon looked up at the sound of his name to see Murtagh waiting for him on the other side of the square. He was looking at him in a cold way and Thorn stood by his shoulder. 'That, _thing, _well, whatever it was said something to you and only to you. Don't lie, I know it.' Eragon sighed.

'No, please, it was private, and I can't exactly make sense of it.'

'Maybe if you tell me—'

'No,' said Eragon flatly. The two of them scowled at eachother across a gap of about twenty yards and their dragons were glaring at eachother as menacingly as their Riders were. Eragon was the first to break the eye contact by the sound of a wail from within the villa. Murtagh seemed to show no reaction to this and only looked around when more cries came out of the house.

'Gone, he is, gone!' a woman was howling. Saphira arched her neck forwards, her nose twitching. At the same time, Eragon had reached out cautiously with his mind towards the villa.

He met strong barriers around guarded minds but they were growing weaker by the second, for grief over rode their emotions. Eragon didn't enter their minds though he pushed lightly at the barriers. One of the minds he was probing gave a sharp sting of retaliation in Eragon's direction, though he did not pull away from the mental contact. One of the minds in the room had no barriers surround it and Eragon could feel the emotions radiating off the person. Their father-in-law, the mayor of Bullridge, had passed away when that gust of wind had shaken the glass in the window frames and some candles sputter in their holders. The woman – for the mind belonged to a woman – was the husband of the man who had greeted the two Riders to Bullridge.

Eragon returned to himself and his heart was heavy. Murtagh was looking at him with something hard in his eyes.

'The Mayor's dead, isn't he? He must have been the soul that that snake wanted, whatever it was.'

'Aye.'

'The King won't be happy, but we'd better tell him now otherwise we'll get a flogging. First time I did a mission and didn't report back….' Murtagh sighed, turning around to face Thorn. Thorn looked back at him and gave a single blink, settling onto the ground so Murtagh could reach the saddlebags on the saddle. Murtagh shifted through the various items until he found a mirror. It wasn't a fancy thing, just a mirror which someone might find in an everyday place. Summoning his strength, Murtagh closed his eyes and said softly, 'Draumr Kópa,' towards the mirror. It went black for a few seconds before a thin key of light adorned the mirror's surface. Eragon looked over Murtagh's shoulder to see a familiar face and scene on the mirror's surface.

Galbatorix's black eyes glittered when he saw the two of them looking back at him from the mirror's surface.

'Murtagh, Eragon, I expected you to report earlier,' he said in a smooth voice.

'Forgive us, my King,' Murtagh mumbled. 'The action at Bullridge was something rather unexpected.' Galbatorix arched an eyebrow at this news and he began to tap his fingernails on the arm of his throne.

'Tell me.'

Murtagh recounted everything that had happened but held his tongue concerning the last bit when the serpent had said something to Eragon. He didn't know why Murtagh hadn't reported it but he was thankful towards his half-brother for it. Murtagh finished by telling the King of the Mayor's passing and the King's expression hardened.

'He was a loyal man and he shall be missed.' There was something in the King's voice which suggested that the Mayor wouldn't be missed at all but Murtagh ignored that. 'I want the two of you to return to Urû'baen at once. I don't care if the people at Bullridge try to stop you; I just want you back inside the city walls.' Galbatorix ended the conversation. Murtagh licked his lips and put the mirror away.

'Come on, let's get back.' Murtagh mounted Thorn and Saphira came over so Eragon could mount her.

_Are you alright, little one? _

_Saphira, I'm fine._

_I hope so. For I get a feeling that this is going to be the last time I will be flying for a long time._

* * *

**URÛ'BAEN **WAS STRETCHED out beneath them by the late evening. Saphira clasped her wings by her sides and dove out of the cloud cover, racing Thorn towards the citadel. Eragon could see the courtyard beneath them where he and Saphira had taken off from yesterday as she came ever closer to touching down on the ground.

The knee high hedges in the garden rustled and shook from the wind whipped up by the two dragon's wings strokes and a couple of servants scuttled away from them, clearly frightened. One man was left standing in the courtyard and Eragon saw him as Salcarthar as Saphira folded her wings. He slid off her, slipping slightly in the snow as his feet touched the ground. His muscles were stiff and sore from sitting on Saphira and flying fast from Bullridge all the way to Urû'baen without dismounting once.

The ground was still slightly unsteady beneath him and he rested a hand on Saphira's side, loosening the straps of her saddle slightly in an attempt to make her more comfortable. She swung her head around and nudged his arm. _Thank you, Eragon._

_Wiol ono._

Saphira smiled and lifted her head, baring her teeth slightly as Salcarthar came towards the two Riders and dragons. He was eyeing them with caution and a hint of disgust as he bowed his head slightly in the Rider's direction.

'I bid you welcome on the King's behalf. He has been waiting for you to return and to tell him everything that has happened to you.' Murtagh ignored Salcarthar and pushed past him, heading towards the double doors which led to the throne room which Eragon had rapidly come to hate. Salcarthar hurried forwards to open the doors for Murtagh who scowled flatly at the man.

The room still held the same dark atmosphere it always had, the same torches casting an eerie glow over small patches of black marble. Eragon's footsteps echoed around the room as did the sound of Saphira's claws. Murtagh followed the two of them in and Thorn came in behind him, shivering. The shake ran down his body and ended by flicking his tail, red spots of light dancing on the walls.

'Well, you have returned from Bullridge,' a voice said. Galbatorix stood and walked down the steps. He stopped just in front of them; the very shadows seemed to be clutching at his clothes and face. 'Your journey went well, I presume?'

'Aye,' Eragon mumbled. Murtagh said nothing.

'I heard of what happened at Bullridge through the mirror, but I want to know now. If you don't cooperate, I will force it from you.'

Eragon started to tell him what had happened in a halting voice first, but it grew stronger as the tale progressed. He skipped over the conversation that he and Murtagh had had the previous night by the campfire and over when the serpent had spoken to him and only him. Over all, the report was quiet short. Galbatorix turned around, thinking hard.

'Describe this…snake,' he said finally.

'It…well. It was black and about sixty feet long. The eyes were poison green and they seemed to pierce your very being. I have seen nothing like it. It called itself Guardian of Spirits, Death Bringer, and Death's Pet. I didn't understand how one could be a true immortal? There are immortals in the world, the elves, the dragons and the Riders, but they can still succumb to a blade or poison. To live, one must die for that is life, that is how the world works. To be unable to die, only a God can be like that, to govern over creation and to judge all of us, to kill us all with ease, to be death itself.'

'The elves are fools, cowards to hide in their forest. One hundred years it has taken for them to emerge because they are weak. They hide a Rider and dragon that were next to useless. Only cowards would send forth a weakling to fight a stronger opponent while they hid behind like frightened animals.'

Eragon's anger flared here. Before he knew what he was doing, he had raised his palm and had barked, 'Thrysta!' The very air seemed to bend to his will as he directed the magic at Galbatorix. The King responded, holding out his left hand to stop the magic and responding with an even greater force. The magic snapped suddenly and Eragon doubled over, the energy seemed to have suddenly drained from him, it left him feeling drowsy and he was now fighting to remain conscious. The fist that came after was enough. Eragon hurtled across the floor and he heard Saphira roar as lights flashed in front of his eyes. His jaw was throbbing and he cracked open his eyes to see Saphira jumped at Galbatorix, hate burning in her eyes. The King flicked his wrist down while muttering something under his breath at the same time. Saphira yelped as she came to a halt in the air, and then was lowered back to the floor. Galbatorix looked over to Eragon. 'I have no quarrel with you. Let us talk in a civilised manner.'

Eragon was breathing heavily through his nose, a bruised blossoming on his jaw. He got up and stayed there, not moving towards the King and Murtagh. His fists were clenched tightly so his fingernails dug into his palms. He could feel a small pain in his hands and a trickled of liquid at the same time.

'That old fool and his dragon taught you a lot. Those words were true and could be considered wise. I have learned to accept things as they are.'

'You couldn't have. To accept things as they are means everything, including all the things in life which you wished had not happened. What would she think about what you've done?' The King went ridged and Eragon knew he had hit a sore spot. 'Ask yourself that.' Galbatorix turned slowly, and a fire was burning in his eyes.

'Anger defines us. Where would we be without anger?' he said in a deadly voice. 'Anger is a promising start to what I hope to achieve with you. With anger on your side, you will be an irreplaceable weapon, even better than your brother here, him and his worthless dragon.' Murtagh's eyes showed his hurt and rage but he said nothing, but Eragon could see his temper simmering. Thorn was silent; but his eyes were sad and mournful. Galbatorix ignored them and continued advancing on Eragon. 'I plan to make you into something great, greater than you were with those damned rebels. You and your dragon will ascend to my side full of glory. I shall finish your training so that you become a true Dragon Rider. I shall teach you spells that are so powerful, so rewarding, that you will see the light, see the right side and the wrong side. I shall teach you how to fight.

'You will not leave Urû'baen's walls this winter. I will craft you into the perfect weapon so that you can fight anything. Only then will you see the truth. You will be my perfect sword.'


	45. Chapter 45 -- Seconds

45

**Seconds**

_Piper decided to jump off the roof. It wasn't a rash decision on her part. This was her plan: Climb to the top of the roof, pick up speed by running for one end all the way to the other. Jump off. Finally, and most importantly, don't fall. _

**_– The Girl who could Fly: Victoria Forester_**

For once, Arya wasn't sleeping in a tent in this campaign. She had chosen a small house near the edge of the city in which a house had been burnt to the ground. That way, Rámir could be close by. She had cleared up the ash and other bits of debris with a few spells so that the area was clean and big enough for Rámir in the coming months. Two weeks had passed since the battle and Rámir had grown even bigger. He was now big enough to support Arya's weight whist flying. Arya had promised Rámir that they would fly together soon but she was worried. She couldn't turn Rámir down for he had been excited for a long while now. He often flew by himself in the evenings and the one thing which had made him unhappy in the air had been Arya's absence.

The fact was simple; there was no escaping it now. It might have explained why she was on the roof of the keep in Belatona with Rámir by her side, Saphira's old saddle strapped on his back. His eyes were shining and full of light and Arya could practically see him quaking with excitement at the prospect.

_Are you sure about this? _Arya asked.

_Course I am! I am a dragon and we were meant for the air, _replied Rámir. He looked at her and settled onto the roof. _Well, what are you waiting for, climb on!_

Arya gulped as she mounted Rámir, her eyes constantly darting to the edge of the building and she could just imagine what would happen if they fell. As Arya thought about it, she could see in her mind's eye the moment when Saphira had plummeted to the ground when she and Eragon had been capture, and the huge earth shattering crash.

Rámir stood up and Arya swayed in her seat.

_Let me tighten the leg straps first, _she said. Rámir paused as she did so, a look of annoyance on his face.

_Hurry, hurry, _he growled. Arya was going slowly, just prolonging the moment.

_I'm ready. _Rámir looked back towards Arya and she in turn, was looking down at the huge drop that awaited her and Rámir if they fell.

_I won't fall, _Rámir assured her and Arya nodded. _You're safe, all strapped in and ready to go, no enemy fire or anything that will stop us. Plus, you have Glaedr's Eldunari with you. _That was true, Arya had placed the stone in one of the roughly cut saddlebags that Brom had made months ago for guidance, and also to make her feel a whole lot safer.

_I'm sure that you won't fall, it's just…_

_Just? _Rámir urged, a dragonish grin on his face.

_I flew once, with Saphira and Eragon, and I hated it and I screamed that I could not bear to fly. _Rámir snorted and shook his wings._ What sort of Dragon Rider would you be if you hated flying?_

_Eragon hated flying with Saphira at first, _Arya shot back and Rámir's laughter increased.

_At first, you said, _he pointed out. _Then I guess that we should sort out this fear of yours and soon, flying will be blissful and wonderful, a relaxing experience which you will wish would not be over when I land._

_But-_

_No buts! Let's fly!_

With the last word, Rámir bounded forwards and Arya lunged and grabbed the spike in front of her as Rámir approached the edge of the building, digging his claws into the stone as he jumped into the void. Arya screamed as they both free fell, wishing for gravity to return but Rámir's heart was hammering with excitement, this was the first time he had flown with Arya and she could feel his joy at being with her and in his favourite place in the world: the air. It reminded her of the time when she had flown down on Saphira's back after she had broken the Star Sapphire to rescue Eragon from Durza, her fear had left her then, such was her determination to protect Eragon for she, after all, was supposed to do just that, the Yawë bound her.

_Relax, Rámir, and let your wings unfurl slowly to catch the breeze, _instructed Glaedr as Rámir stretched out his wings. When they reached their fullest extent, Rámir pointed his nose skywards and tilted his wings and soared upwards. The air thrummed as it passed over the membrane and Rámir flapped three times, looking back at Arya. She still clung to the spike, her eyes wide as she saw the city far below her. Her breathing was fast and shallow and Rámir snorted.

_You really hate flying, don't you? _he said.

_What do you think? _Arya snapped back and Rámir chuckled. Her stomach lurched as Rámir tipped to the side and she shifted her grip from the neck spike to a two armed grip around his neck.

_Arya! Soften your grip! _Rámir told her and Arya loosened her hands slightly.

_Please let me down, _Arya shouted.

_Not until you admit flying is wonderful, _Rámir said.

_Never._

_Well, I guess you're stuck then. _Arya scowled at Rámir but his only response was to go faster. Clasping his wings by his sides, Rámir dove down.

_Arya, listen to me, _Glaedr said. _Shift your grip to the neck spike in front of you and also shift your weight until your centre of gravity is over Rámir's shoulder joints so that you are in a half crouched position. _Arya did so, the wind whipping in her hair. _This is the position you must adopt when going in for a dive. That way, Rámir can go faster-_

_Faster? Why would I want to go faster than this? _Arya screamed.

_Believe me, there are times when you will have to go a lot faster than this, _Glaedr said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Rámir pulled out of the dive, aiming upwards towards the heavens. He opened his wings and let out a roar which rolled over the surrounded area, echoing so it sounded like multiple dragons were answering him.

_Sit, _Glaedr said.

Arya sat.

Rámir pointed downwards again and Arya shifted her weight once more, then to her horror, Rámir rolled over in a barrel roll. Forgetting Glaedr's instructions, she lunged forwards and grabbed Rámir around the neck.

_Arya, sometimes things like that are unavoidable, I might have to dodge arrows for instance and that is one of the most simple things I can do to avoid getting hit. You must stop worrying, _Rámir said gently. _Follow my body motion and then you might find flying even more enjoyable._

_How?_

_It should be obvious. Do what you think is right. _Rámir looped backwards so his belly faced the sky and Arya, taking his advice, lowered herself onto his neck. Her heart calmed and she smiled. Rámir's delight raced across their link as instead of levelling out, pointed his nose downwards. Arya crouched, the wind whipping her hair into an array. A nervous laugh escaped her here and Rámir's happiness grew.

_Shift backwards, I'm coming out of my dive now! _Rámir levelled out, his wings snapping open; Arya leaned backwards and afterwards sat on the saddle. _There. You see? If you don't panic and get into the flow of flying, it won't be as bad as you think. It's just your mind creating a bad scenario._

_It's so…peaceful here, with only you and the clouds for company._

_And it was boring without you. It was so lonely, soaring among the skies and stars with only me. The sky is so empty because all life is teeming down below, with only a few birds for company. I couldn't full enjoy the experience because I felt as if only half of me was here, as if half of me was scared of flying._

_I'm sorry. I didn't know how much one could enjoy it here. It's beautiful. _Rámir laughed here, looking back at Arya.

_Ha! This is nothing! You should see it in the setting sun, the clouds tinted with pink and orange and streaked through with dusky gold, and the skies stained red from the dying sun. And then you have it in the moonlight when night has fallen! The whole world bathed in blue and silver with the stars winking above your head. I've only seen one full moon but it was beautiful. _Arya sighed, relaxing back and shifting her weight slightly in time with Rámir's movements.

_How could I have been so blinded before?_

_Many things which you once thought normal are strange, even alien when you look back on them, _was Rámir's reply.

_I suppose that's true. _Her thoughts drifted to something back in the past but she quickly shut them off from Rámir who was poking around them. _Don't. I don't go around doing that to you._

_I'm sorry. If you aren't going to show me, why don't you tell me?_

_No! The reason which I shielded them is because I don't want to talk about them, let alone you to see them._

_Well then, I suppose I could force you. _With that, Rámir tucked his left wing into his side, gliding over until he was pointing nose down at the ground, spinning below them. The wind was whipping in Arya's hair but instead of terror closing over her, a sense of recklessness came over her and she crouched forwards, enjoying the rush of the wind. She gave a laugh of enjoyment and said to Rámir, _Ha! Nice try, _she teased.

_Hmm…. _Rámir then turned over so his back and now Arya was facing the ground. Even though Arya wasn't as uncomfortable as she was before with flying, she found it difficult to suppress her fear now. Rámir must have sensed her emotions because a deep chuckle escaped him. _Give up? Are you going to tell me?_

_No! That's private!_

_Well then; I'm quite comfortable here so if you do not answer my question, I guess I could just stay like this. _Arya's stomach flipped and she fought the urge to throw up.

_Come on! You won't fall and Rámir will straighten up before he hits the ground; and if the worst comes, I can stop the both of us with magic, _she told herself, but she felt queasy; Arya doubted that she would be able to hold onto her breakfast at this point.

_Rámir! _she finally shouted.

_Yes? _The reply was an innocent one but Arya's anger over road that.

_Stop! I'm sorry, but I won't be telling you who I was thinking about._

_Hmpf. _Rámir turned over in the air and slowly opened his wings so they caught the air and he soared upwards. _Someone, eh? Who would that some be?_

_That was the whole reason I shielded my mind, I don't want you to see._

_Good point, but can I make a guess?_

_No._

_Was it the blue Rider? _Her thoughts became confused here and Rámir knew he had stuck something. _It was, wasn't it? _he said.

_I said, I won't be telling you! _Arya exclaimed.

_Fine, _Rámir grumbled. They were silent now, Rámir's wings was the only sound in the skies. _Arya, _he said finally.

_Yes?_

_Do you love him? Eragon?_

_I think so. I loved another elf once, Fäolin his name was, and he was killed by Durza._

_The Shade who captured and tortured you?_

_Yes. But now, I'm not so sure of myself, not sure about who my heart lies with. Fäolin died just under a year ago and I travelled with him for fifteen years, carrying Saphira's egg between the Varden and Ellesméra. We had been friend for many years and I was in love with him, even though he was not my mate. I wanted to be his mate and I had planned on telling him at some time soon, but then Durza tore him away from me._

_I'm sorry, _Rámir whispered. _You are the only person I've loved. My parents are long gone, their bones faded among the soils. It must be terrible to lose someone. I could not bear to lose you._

_Aye. _

The sun's rays spilled onto the clouds on either side of them, turning them orange and gold.

Rámir looped back towards Belatona, saying at the same time, _We should be getting back now, it'll be night soon._

_You need to take me up into the stars at night on a full moon, do we have an agreement?_

_I'd love to._

After a couple of minutes of flying, Rámir clasped his wings at his sides, pointing his nose towards the earth and falling like an arrow through the cloud cover. Arya crouched in the saddle, the wind whistling in her ears and making her eyes smart.

Rámir looked back at Arya over his shoulder, giving a grin. _How about another up-side-down fall?_

_No! Please, not just yet, _Arya said quickly.

Rámir gave a laugh and looked towards the earth which was gaining size at every passing second. _Fine, have it your way._

Only a few hundred feet from the ground, Rámir flared his wings, the membrane snapping and rumbling as the air passed over them. He flapped hard, whipping up a wind as he came to rest outside the house that Arya now occupied.

She pulled at the knots holding the leather straps on her legs, loosening them. Her fingers were stiff with cold and she climbed off as Rámir settled down on the ground. _Thank you for giving me a new view of the air, _Arya murmured.

_You see? When we are together, we can conquer anything._

_Mmh…. _Arya went inside her house and into the kitchen, there, she opened a cupboard and took out a small cauldron, a jug of goats milk and a few vegetables and crossed to the fireplace. Arya set all the items on a wooden table so she could haul a few logs onto the fire. There was a hook embedded into the stone above the fire and she hung the cauldron off that, crouching down so she sat on her heels.

'Brisingr.' A fire started to flare in the grate, the flames tinged with green. Arya next filled the cauldron with magic by which time Rámir had placed his head in the doorway, watching Arya with loving eyes.

_No meat? Why? Creatures like myself must eat meat to survive._

_Rámir, I have never eaten meat in my life. The society I grew up in does not eat meat. I cannot miss something I have never tasted._

_I never said "Do you miss it," all I said is why do you not eat meat?_

_How can you bare to eat something that was so full of life once? To share its thoughts and feelings, to feel the energy in the creature's muscle. After experiencing what it is like to be a rabbit or a deer, when eating their flesh, it is like eating yourself._

_Hmph. I shall always eat meat. Vegetables and rabbit food are for lesser beings._

_I will not change._

_The water's boiling. _Arya looked around and saw that Rámir was right; she found it amusing that he kept steering conversations off-topic and generally answering questions which were best left unanswered, then pouting like a small child when he didn't get his way. Arya took a small knife out of her belt and set out peeling a few potatoes at inhuman speed, depositing the skin into a bowl and then cutting them up before placing them in the pot. After the first one, three more potatoes that were part of the dwindling supply went in along with half a carrot – which were also in short numbers –, a few pods of peas and a few cabbage leaves. She stirred them with a wooden spoon for a few minutes, waiting for them to cook.

_So, tell me about Fäolin, _Rámir said finally. Arya hesitated here, memories of her lover weaving across her thoughts.

_He…well, he enjoyed my company and I enjoyed his. I met him at an early age and we became fast friends. Then when I volunteered to shepherd Saphira's egg between Du Weldenvarden and Farthen Dûr, he and another elf called Glenwing became my companions. For fifteen years we did that together. The night he was killed was one of the worst in my life. I would have mourned him for weeks if Durza had not captured me. All of my strength and attention was devoted to keeping him from unlocking all of my secrets, such as where I sent Saphira's egg and Ellesméra's location. For months, Durza tried to weasel my secrets out of my mind, but it was my anger at him for killing not only Glenwing, but my love, my companion, Fäolin which kept me from giving in. Not only that, but the Yawë bound me; but I would have given in at some point. Then Eragon came and he helped me, rescued me and got me to the Varden and there I was healed. All in all, he was a kind and wonderful person._

_You're avoiding the question, _Rámir said. Arya sighed, shaking her head.

_Rámir, I answered your question, but it spilled over into a story about my ordeals some months ago._

_I can see that. Watch your dinner, it seems to be overcooking. _Arya shook her head, taking the cauldron off the fire and leaving the wood to burn, warming up the room. She ladled a few spoonfuls into a wooden bowl, filling it up and then putting the spoon in the bowl. Night had fallen while she was talking to Rámir and making her dinner and she looked up at the stars through a window above a washing basin.

_Meet me on the roof, _she said, turning towards the stairs. Arya began to climb them and the next minute, she was sliding back a bolt which held a trapdoor shut. It was set into the ceiling at it looked as if it hadn't been used in many years. After giving it a huge pushed, it opened on creaky hinges and exposed a black night, lit by thousands of stars. She placed her bowl of broth on the room and jumped up, spotting Rámir waiting for her. He cleared a patch of snow and sat down after padding around the area a few times. Arya walked over to him and sat by his belly, cradling the bowl between her hands.

_Thank you for showing me the wonders of the skies today._

_As I said before you should see it at night. It is when it holds most of its beauty, the beauty of Mother Nature smiling down on all creation through the very moon and the many stars as her children. Arya, you conquered your fear today and I am happy and proud. What you did today took courage on your part, I could feel your fear as my own and this made me sad; how could I hate flying when I was meant for the air? Thank you, thank you for putting your fear behind you; it was tearing me in half; to stay with you or to fly? I couldn't decide. I'm now happy I can have both._

_No, Rámir, thank you. _ He chuckled softly, nudging Arya on the back of her head, his breath warm and ruffling her hair.

_I guess we should both thank each other then._

_Yes._


	46. Chapter 46 -- In the Ways of Dragons

46

**In the Ways of the Dragons**

_"Well, if I'm like a child, then teach me." _

**_– Jake Sully: Avatar_**

Rámir shivered. The air was cold and it stung his throat every time he breathed. It was a crisp cold and he didn't mind it so much. Opening his seeing-eyes, Rámir lifted his head and yawned, his tongue curling at the end. Shaking his head, Rámir looked down and he could feel bound-to-him-Arya through the bond they shared, resting against his belly. He had wrapped his tail around her to keep her warm during the night and he was glad he had; it had snowed once more during the night. There was snow in between his scales, tipping the tops of his neck-and-back-sharp-spines.

He shook his head, the bright-from-sky-sunlight reflecting off his scales and onto the freezing-white-snow; it was then that he felt Arya stir. Rámir brought his head around and laid it on the snow, waiting for Arya to wake.

_Arya. _Her eyes opened and she flicked some snow off Rámir's tail so it landed on his nose. Rámir snapped at it, catching some in his mouth and it melted, the water spreading over his tongue and teeth. _Did you sleep well? _he asked.

_Yes, thank you._

_I slept with the saddle on; it wasn't the most comfortable night, _Rámir said.

_Why didn't you tell me? I could have taken it off, _Arya exclaimed, prying herself out of Rámir's tail and walking over to his belly, fiddling with the leather straps.

_What about Glaedr? _Rámir said. Arya stopped and reached up for the on-saddle-bags.

_Oh damn it! _she mind-shouted. After a few seconds, she had extracted the cloth bag and held it close to her chest. _Master, forgive me, _she said.

_It does not matter, it is so lonely and the dark is never lifting. I cannot tell where I am; I am just a consciousness, floating in a Netherworld, _Glaedr said, emotion in his voice. _So lonely - a loneliness I have never felt._

_You have never felt? How can you endure? _Rámir asked. Glaedr silenced him with a snarl and Rámir cringed. The angry presence slowly vanished, drawing back.

_Forgive me, I am finding it so hard without Oromis, always, my mind has been with his and now, it as if half has me has died. I no longer care to live on; all I wish is to join Oromis in a true death._ _The only reason I am here now is because you need me, the both of you. Even though my body is no more, my mind, my consciousness, and therefore my knowledge lives on; and through me, Oromis lives. Arya, what is the season? Where are you?_

_It is winter, the Varden are spending the season at Belatona, _replied Arya.

_Good, very good. We must address a topic of utmost importance._

Rámir perked here. _What is it?_

_Your training. Eragon and Saphira stayed in Ellesméra for the summer and some of the autumn as you know, Arya, and they received my instruction and Oromis'. We are indeed lucky that you hatched for Arya, Rámir. Arya already knows a majority of things; therefore there are only a few things left to unveil to her. You on the other hand, Rámir, need more help on the subject, _elder-dragon-Glaedr summarised. Rámir's mind was whirling and he was shaking with excitement as he has done yesterday. Training? To become a dragon? To learn the secrets of the old order of the Riders? He looked to partner-of-his-mind-Arya and she looked determined, her mouth set in a hard line and her eyes shining. Her arms tightened around Glaedr's-stone-heart-golden-flaring-Eldunarí.

_What say you? _Arya asked him. Rámir fixed her in his glitter-green-seeing-eye.

_What do you think? What else did you think I would say: nay? Of course I would say yes._

* * *

**_RÁMIR, _**_CLOSE YOUR_ _eyes, _Glaedr said. _I cannot show you in the skies, I would if I could, so I shall show you in my mind. Extend your conscious, Rámir. _Rámir did as he was told, closing his eyes and extending his touch-thoughts-his-unique-mind to Glaedr's jewel-soul-Eldunarí. The elder dragon's consciousness was old, a sadness echoed amongst the deep halls, every thought and feeling racing through the Eldunarí; it was as if a bass chord had been stuck on a lyre and the sound were dying away, but it stretched on into forever. The thing that Rámir found uncomfortable was the blackness, the never ending darkness that surrounded him, pressing in on him from every side. Not only that, but Glaedr's mind felt as if it lacked something, something of utmost importance.

Oromis' conscious.

_How can you stay this way? How can you endure? The world is so full of light yet you have to sit here in the dark, _Rámir said.

_One of the things I miss most. When I was with you when you were flying among the clouds looking for Nasuada, I felt a thrill about being able to see again, to feel wings at my sides, feel the cool rush of air tearing past my face, the wind passing over my wings. I thank you. But you ask how I can stand this? It is because I must, there is no other reason. I am one of the few sources of the Rider's knowledge, and this I will pass onto you and Arya. Hush now; such things are of little importance at the time being. You first lesson starts now._

From within the dark came an explosion of bright-colour-see-many-things-images. They were mostly blue and grey, whist some things highlighted in gold and orange. Ramie felt as if he sat in the middle of a dome, images swirling around him in the darkness of Glaedr's ancient-being-of-him-mind.

_One of the most important things you must learn is when you are in the air. Yours and your Rider's safety depends on your flying skills; one of these skills is how you read the skies, the very air around you. These images you see before you are signs for you to watch out for. Swirling and dark grey clouds generally lean towards a bad weather storm, be it rain or hail. _One image drew Rámir's attention and it blossomed before him in his mind. The clouds were dark grey and angry looking. _This is general storm cloud. This one is heavy with rain. Rain can be also smelt on the air because of its general dampness. This is so obvious that in hot weather, a human can even smell rain's coming. A poor excuse for getting you and your Rider killed if you cannot identify when a simple thunderstorm will come. The air is charged with electricity and this can also be smelt, _Glaedr continued, at the same time, a sharp smell came to Rámir's nose. _Remember that smell, _said Glaedr. _Now, let us move on._

Days flew by at a time, and with each day, Rámir's knowledge of the world around grew. He learnt the many needs of the dragons, how to care for himself and his needs, including fireweed which would settle his stomach and keep a dragon healthy; what plants he could eat and he could not; flying techniques and how to guard himself against many of the dangers in battle and the area that need a lot of addressing: his knowledge in the ancient language.

_Rámir, _partner-forever-Arya said to him three weeks after his first lesson on weather patterns, _how are your lessons going?_

_They are fine; and your own?_

_Fine as well thank you. Glaedr and I were talking last night after you had gone to sleep and we both agreed that you need to start learning the elven language. _

_The language of elves?_

_Yes. What do you know of it firstly? _

Rámir kneaded his claws into the snow, thinking hard.

_I have not heard you speak it often, but when I did, I felt the presence of wild magic around them, as if you were weaving the energy into your words. What I know of it from your thoughts is that it is a powerful tongue, one in which you cannot lie and one which you two-legs use to command magic. _Arya was taken aback by his knowledge and Rámir felt slightly smug. _It helps in my education to be bonded to you; I can read your mind easily, so easily that I worry sometimes._

Arya hit him slightly on his leg and Rámir started to laugh a dragon-stone-grind-laugh. _Did you expect me to be your average over-grown reptile?_

_Of course not! How could of I have thought that? Not after knowing Saphira…. _She trailed off into silence, her eyes becoming unfocused and glazed. That only lasted a second before she came back to herself. _Is there anything else you know of?_

_Only that my name is based off a word in the tongue, but other than that, no. That is why I need to learn. _So started his education in the tongue of no lies.

_Everything in this world has a name in the language, something which is not just _a_ name for it; you can have many names for a stone in the common tongue for example. _To emphasis this, Arya picked up one off the top of the roof where they were standing and weighed it I her palm. _I could call this a rock, a pebble, gravel or such. But in the ancient language, there is one name for this. It is _the _name of a stone. This in the ancient language is stenr, for example. _Rámir nodded and settled down on the snow-free patch of the roof.

_I have a question._

_Oh, aye?_

_If you elves need the language for your spells, why do dragons not need to use this? _Arya frowned, obviously thinking, Rámir waited patiently as she searched for an answer. But it was Glaedr who beat her to it.

_The answer is simple, young one. You are a dragon, and even though the elves' blood runs hot and thick with magic, yours does as well and contains even more. How can we fly? We depend on magic for this. How does a hatchling know when to hatch, when do they know if their Rider is close, if the time is right? Even we do not the true answer to that question, but it is due to magic. Magic is second nature to us; after bonding with the elves, our very races were fused with spells of so much power. This gave us dragons the ability to speak and the elves' magic grew stronger. We do not need the ancient language because we are very creatures of magic whist the elves are not entirely. Dragons have a unique gift._

_Yes, _partner-of-his-soul-Arya said, _it is very true that you are a creature of magic and by far more powerful than I._

_The language is constructed out of many aspects and in places, is different than the common tongue such as we're speaking now. Some things are changed around, such as in this tongue, one could say 'the strong dragon', but in the ancient language, it would be translated as 'the dragon mighty', which is du skulblaka ramr. Some places, it is confusing and no soul knows every word in this language, not even the oldest elf knows. It is of great interest to study the language, _Glaedr continued.

_Even though dragons do not need to use this language, you still need an education in this tongue, it is of utmost importance, _said Arya. _As Glaedr was saying, there are many syllables needed to truly speak it. Words can be combined to make new words. A dragon in the ancient language would be a 'scale-flapper', Skulblaka, and a bird, Fethrblaka, is a 'feather-flapper'. _Arya indicated a lone flying-feather-wing-bird in the skies. Arya sat and watched it for a while but then she returned her attention to Rámir. _Another thing I should add is descriptions are placed after the object they describe. The most common mistake made by people trying to speak the ancient language is to place adjectives before nouns, referring back to Glaedr's earlier example for instance. Nouns must be placed before adjectives._ _Master, how should we go about this?_

_Rámir, _Glaedr said kindly._ I think the best way we should go about this is we start with the basics. The basic thing which makes up all languages are sounds you use and put them together to make words. That and there are some rules in the language. Arya gave you one before but another is you cannot say things like 'flying', it would be simply 'fly', 'flies', or 'to fly'. Also there are the matter of prefixes and suffixes, not only those, but articles, conjunctions, auxiliary verbs, pronouns and prepositions that you will have to master._

_And what?_Rámir was truly confused now; his head was spinning from all the information and all the little rules he had to follow and such. The most interesting thing which had happened during the whole presentation was when that easily-caught-and-eaten-bird had flown overhead. He was listening but now he was lost.

_Were you listening or shall we start again? _asked Glaedr. Rámir's head snapped up and his eyes widened.

_I was listening! I was, I swear it!_

_Can you tell us one of the rules of the ancient language then?_

Rámir searched for an answer and after a few seconds, he finally grunted, _Nouns come before adjectives. 'Green eyes' would be 'eyes green' as an example._

_Good._

Slowly, ever so slowly, they sat upon the rooftop and coached Rámir in a few sounds, words and by the time the sun was setting over the horizon, Rámir could stumble through a couple of sentences of the cannot-tell-lies-language.

_I'm glad to see how you're progressing, _Arya murmured to him. Rámir dipped his head, his glitter-iron-hard-green-scales glinting in the sunset.

_Thank you; I had no idea that learning some things could be so dull. _Arya barked with laughter and Rámir allowed himself a small chuckle.

_I remember learning things from Oromis and Glaedr when it was my responsibility to guard Saphira's egg. I was eager to learn but sometimes, my mind would drift and I would be in another place entirely, staring into space, wishing to be away from it all. I know what you mean. Eragon came to me one day, one of the first lessons he had had with Oromis and he was so sour._

_Arya, _Rámir cut in. _Arya, I'm beginning to worry, you think about Eragon so much, it takes up your daily hours and sometimes you are so silent, not twitching or saying a word. And your thoughts are filled with him, only him and nothing else._

_You're saying? _Arya whispered quietly, it was a dangerous voice but Rámir pressed on.

_You are constantly brooding on him, you are being distracted from your studies, it seems you are only half here and your mind has slipped off somewhere else. You've grown to hardly touch your food, only to play with it. You stay awake during the night, hours and hours you stay up. I feel your distress and concern. Arya, please, I know what you feel for him. You must place your feelings aside for the moment. _Arya's face and grown stonier with every word Rámir spoke and by the time Rámir had finished, it was a thunder cloud.

_Rámir, I appreciate your concerns, _she said in a restrained voice, _but I am fine._

_You're not. I'm worried._

_Then don't, _she snapped. Rámir blinked.

_Arya, you and I are bonded on a very powerful level. I feel your sorrow as my own._

_Leave me be!_

_No. Arya- _Then Arya did something Rámir never thought she would do, she punched him on his side, not as a playful-young-hatchling might, but behind this one was anger and it hurt. Rámir roared and pounced on Arya coming down on her. He snarled at her, his eyes flaring with anger. _Arya, _he said almost desperately. _I have no wish to fight._

_Then leave me be!_

Rámir slowly pulled his lips back over his gums and got off Arya who sprang up, her face and eyes rolling with anger.

_I'm sorry if I upset you, _Rámir whispered. Arya glared at him, stomping off, her arms tightly crossed. Rámir though he saw a tear glistening in the corner of one of her eyes as she turned away. Her feelings-emotions were dancing around her mind; love was one of them, one of the strongest. Bitterness came next but the most over powering of these was…loneliness? How was that possible? Arya had him, didn't she? Did she not want him? Did she want another? But she had punched him after all. He was so confused. _Arya, he is not here, _he said finally.

_You don't tell me that, _she snarled, turning on him. Now Rámir could see the wet-upset-tears in her eyes, she was fighting to hold them back but on they came. Rámir backed away, his teeth slightly bared.

_Arya, _he pleaded. _Please, we cannot lose a war over a single person. Sometimes, you must put your feelings to the side, come back to them at another time. I've seen you in public, seen how you harden yourself and set your face as an impassive mask. I sense you struggling sometimes, but I need that person now. Please. _Arya's lip trembled and her face softened.

_I can't, sometimes I must let my feelings out. I'm not a creature who can hide every emotion inside of themselves. As good as my race may be at doing that, sometimes we have to let our feelings go. Rámir, I'm so confused. And…I was so angry and distraught, that was the only reason I lashed out at you. I feel so horrible now._

He stepped forwards, extending one wing and placing it around her shoulders.

_Take comfort, I am here and I always will be, don't you forget that. _She smiled at this, stroking his wings and the fingers that made up the structure of the use-for-flight-wing.

_I won't. Being a Dragon Rider is an honour, but that does not lie with the glory we will receive on the battlefield, being the wisest of scholars and the greatest of healers, the real honour is being able to share your very mind with one you love a cherish._

Then Rámir heard singing, soft and musical and oh so very beautiful! The song filled his ears and filled up his very being, as if it was a beautiful-maiden-siren singing. But it wasn't, it was Arya. Her voice was quiet to begin with but with every line it grew strong and louder. Rámir could guess what she sung about, what her heart desired and every note sounded in his head, magnified by Arya's thoughts. He only listened to his Rider sing and within the voice echoed sadness, echoed something that even Rámir began to feel for this stranger whom he had never met, wishing for him to come back and he lost himself to Arya's song.

The song ceased abruptly. Rámir blinked and opened his eyes. He had closed them sometime during Arya's singing and a rumble had begun in his chest, rising and falling with the sound of her voice.

_You really miss him, don't you? _he whispered.

_Fate is cruel, but I will wait for the winter snows to melt and once they have, we'll both find Eragon and Saphira and rescue them bring them out of the Darkness of the capital. Losing one love was hard enough for me, but losing another, it would tear my heart in two._

_Then I would help and sew it up. _Arya sat down by Rámir's leg and closed her eyes.

_Thank you, but I hope it doesn't come to that._

* * *

**ONE **OF THE most engaging lessons for Rámir was about the history of the Dragons, the history of his once-before-him-and-no-more-ancestors and fore-fathers.

_Five years of war? Five years of killing only for one mistake in a hunting accident? _Rámir asked, astounded.

_One of our hatchlings was tracked and hunted like a common-four-legs-good-eating-deer, like if you were hunting for food, _Glaedr said. _A hatchling, that's all that dragon was, an innocent hatchling._

_How could've an elf hunted a dragon like a common deer? We are not that low! We are not just common animals, _Rámir said.

_Therein lies the anger which stirred the war. We in return killed the pointed-ears-two-legs-elf and it was then our races turned against one another. _Rámir's nose twitched as he caught a scent, but it slid to the back of his mind as he continued to listen to listen to Glaedr. _There were great losses on each side and all of Alagaësia felt the consequences of the war, plants withered and died, birds ceased to sing and the land was bathed in the elves blood and our own._

_Were you in the war? _Rámir asked quietly. Glaedr chuckled and laughed.

_I am not that old; I am not even a thousand years old; if I was that old, I would have turned into myself long ago and ponder meaningless questions for decades on end. _Rámir caught the scent again and it wafted in his nose, stronger than before. He flicked out his taste-scents-and-foods-tongue and sat up from his position when he was lying down on his side soaking up the weak sunlight that was offered from the bright-sun-that-burns-hot.

_Master, _he said slowly, _there is a scent on the air which has caught my attention._

_What is it of?_

_Human and female. Wait…._ He flicked out his tongue again, standing up and drawing his lips back. He had caught sight of a block-light-shadow on the snow which had just whipped around the corner. Rámir could still see it slightly, the head of someone. Rámir crouched low and lay in wait, making himself a flat as possible. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then someone looked around the stand-tall-man-made-building, nothing more than a peek, looking quickly up at the roof at the same time. She paused for a few seconds, then deciding nothing was wrong, continued forwards and pressed herself flat against the wall of Arya's-shelter-house. Rámir's nostrils flared and he growled.

_It's her again. I thought she was under watch._

_Who?_

_The woman that was on the hillside on the night of the battle: Monica. _Rámir tilted his head, watching for a little while longer as she sulked around the house. _What does she want here? _Rámir asked himself. He was looking for partner-of-his-mind-Arya now and he found her quickly.

_Rámir?_

_Something's not right._

_What is it? Why aren't you participating in your lessons?_

_That woman is outside, Monica her name is. _Arya's anger spiked again as it had done a few days ago when they had been standing on the roof.

_Where? She hasn't got her share yet!_

_Outside, she arrived a few minutes ago and has been flitting around now._ She passed in front of the house again and Rámir ducked his head. _What is she doing? She's bent on doing something, but I don't know what, her mind is heavily shielded. Not only that, but I wonder who she is? Her barriers are strong, she's been trained well._

She looked around quickly, pulling a cloak over her frame and a hood over her head. Monica looked from left to right, and then hurried away. Rámir relaxed and he shoulder slumped. He stood up and said to Arya, _She's gone._

_What did she do?_

_Lingered around the area, and then left after a few minutes. Even though her thoughts were shielded, I could sense anger a bitterness coming off her, bitterness towards you. _Arya was silent as her mind worked.

_Could it have been just because I am a Rider?_

_I do not know. I think there is more of a story behind this. To find the answer, you must know the past. I have a feeling that it not just because I hatched for you. There was another feeling present in her mind: love. _

* * *

There was originally a song in there where Arya sings, but I took it out. The song was _One Day _by Trading Yesterday. It's a nice song...

And yes, that is how the Ancient Language is constructed. Man, I wasted so much time trying to learn that crap... And then I realised that the Varden are terrorists and the only evil thing Galbatorix has brought upon a relatively stable empire is raiding taxes. The whole ones causing the problem are the Varden. My like of the IC dwindled so now it's nothing more than a guilty pleasure.

Whatever.


	47. Chapter 47 -- All I Desire

47

**All I Desire**

_'But that doesn't account for the pain in your eyes. That will be the doing of one of your young men.' _

**_– Graceling: Kristin Cashore_**

Monica's eyes were blurred with tears as slipped up the streets of Belatona. She flattened herself against a wall as a cart pulled by two oxen rumbled past, the wheels squeaking in the clean snow. The driver was singing quietly to himself, too quietly for Monica to hear his words. Soon the rumble of the wheels and the man's voice disappeared. Monica hurried across the lane and headed towards the Keep.

_I must get back before they notice I've been gone, _she thought to herself, hiding herself once more as a patrol of soldiers tramped past. This hiding was beginning to tire her but she didn't mind it. The only thing which mattered to her now was to achieve her goal. _You rejected me and my heart has been torn. _Monica closed her eyes, remembering the night. Her hope, hope that had once been so bright was now extinguished, now it had vanished all because of that conversation. Even when she was little, Monica had dreamed of herself one day, one day married to a rich and powerful man that loved her with all his heart and who she loved back in return. He had been handsome, broad shouldered and he had a kind heart and every woman would desire him, but Monica had gotten him first.

Her mistake.

Her failure.

Reality was cruel sometimes; most of the time. She wiped a tear away from her eye and curled into a ball, sitting in the snow. That dream had almost come to reality, almost, but snatched away at the last minute because of her hastiness. She should have kept her mouth shut. But then…. Her fists tightened and she dug her fingernails into her legs. Monica let out a sob. He would have gone to his other love. _'I cannot, Monica. I cannot. Even if I did love you in return, I am immortal and whist you will age and die, I shall remain like this, and I cannot accept your offer, for my heart belongs to another.' _She choked back another sob. Another? He loved another woman? There was an ache in her chest and she stood, brushing snow off her clothes. There and then in the King's palace, Monica had promised herself that she would find this woman. She was desperate for Eragon, so desperate.

_What am I doing? What have I got in to? _she asked herself. The Keep now loomed up in front of her and she darted to the shadows. Four guards sat outside the inner gate on turned over crates, pikes leaning against the wall. They were still there from when Monica had slipped past them before. Monica hurried away from them, towards the right and along a line of houses. She had been to Belatona twice before and knew of a small tunnel which would lead her under the wall surrounding the Keep, a bolt hole for the governor of the city. This was her path in and out of the Keep and as long as she kept the exit hidden, Monica could venture in and out of the Keep at her will.

She pulled up at the last house on the end of the row and moved a few paces to the right. There was a chick coop there and the chickens inside squawked and clucked when they saw her. Cursing, Monica creep past the coop and behind it were three barrels. They were arranged in a triangle and selecting the one on the left, she heaved the lid off. It was stiff and sealed with magic, but with a word and a light touch with her fingers, the lid came free. Monica looked down into a gapping darkness below her.

Climbing up onto the rim, Monica placed her arms on either side of her and lowered herself in, looking for the step in the darkness. Her feet found it and she reached up for the lid of the barrel once more, closing it softly and locking it once more. Now the darkness was complete.

'Garjzla, malthinae unin böllr,' she whispered. There was some pop and a flickering werelight shimmered into existence above her outstretched palm. Monica began to wind her way down the tunnel, half crouching most of the time so after a few minutes, her back was stiff and sore. There was a faint sound of dripping water somewhere and the only other sounds were those of her feet and her breathing.

The floor was made of compacted dirt and her footsteps echoed around the small tunnel. Soon, it began to slowly slop upwards and Monica felt relieved. Coming to the end of the tunnel, she stepped up on another step and pressed her ear again a panel of wood. No sound came from the outside. Monica placed her hands on the wood and pushed. It swung out on silent hinges. This time, the entrance was hidden by a chest high box which was in a storage facility in the Keep. Monica ended the magic and hurried away from the scene, pausing to shut the door behind her. Now that she was safety back in the Keep, her mind turned to her more troubled thoughts.

The elf and her dragon.

They were the reason for her visit out of the Keep. The night that Monica had climbed the hill and hid behind the elf, she hadn't know who she was, not really, only had a small amount of hope that the elf could protect her from that mad man who had been chasing her for the past few days on end. But then that man, Robert whom she now hated with all of her being, had told the story, the elf's face had gone white and cold with anger. Monica wasn't stupid; she was bright enough to interpret her actions before she had slapped her.

Anger. Anger at Monica's stupidity and selfishness; anger at the events that had happened, all because of her. One reason fuelled this, Monica had searched for a while to find the answer but after many days of thinking, she had found the answer.

'…_for my heart belongs to another.' _

It was her. It was the elf. If Monica had known about that before, she would have struck her, struck her down and hit her, trying to hurt every part of the elf's being because it was of her that Monica's chest now ached, it was because of her that so many in the Varden wanted her dead, it was because of her that Monica now wept and, it was because of her that Eragon was still trapped in the capital.

_And it was your own fault as well, _some part of Monica's being said. She quietened that thought. No, it was because of the elf, the elf that was so beautiful it made a man's heart flutter at the sight of her face, the elf that had stolen her love, the elf which had made Monica's life a misery. Now the elf was going to pay for it, her and her dragon.

_I will have my revenge, _Monica told herself. _I promise myself that. _

She peeked around a corner and sprinted up a corridor, then repeated the process. She was desperate to get back to her wing of the Keep before anyone discovered her absence. Rounding a corner, Monica pulled back sharply as a soldier appeared from around a separate wall. He walked with a limp and Monica whimpered as she saw who it was.

Robert.

He snapped his head around and Monica quickly pulled back, but not fast enough it seemed for he began to move up the corridor.

"You," he snarled, coming up to her and grabbing her arm, swinging her around. His eyes were blazing with fury and his actions were those of one who could barely control their anger. "What are you doing here?"

Monica met his cold and gaze and wrenched herself out of his grip.

"That business is not your own," she hissed. Robert chuckled and leaned against a wall, seeming relaxed although his body language showed otherwise, as if he would like nothing better than to stick her with a blade.

"Oh, I think you'll find that I can ask you why you were not where you're supposed to be after what happened at the capital." Monica was trembling with rage and she backed away slightly, pointing a finger at him.

"And I shall not give you an answer, dog," she sneered.

"I think I'll find that you are in fact the bitch around here." Monica swelled up with rage and she was shaking from head to toe.

"Why do even care about why I am taking a walk around—"

"A walk?" Robert said in a disbelieving tone, cutting her off. "I doubt that's what you were doing."

"Were you suggesting that I had left the Keep?"

"You tell me, and there could have been a million things you were doing, snake."

"Watch your tongue!"

"Then you watch yours." They glared at eachother and Monica was in half a mind to draw her knife and drive it through Robert's gut, and she could tell that Robert wanted nothing more than to do that to her at that moment. Monica was determined not to be the first to back down from the other man but he was equally determined it seemed.

"What were you doing?" he said in a clipped voice.

"I have given you my answer," Monica hissed. "Can I not enjoy a little exercise?"

"My dear lady, do not presume that I am stupid please."

"Well it seems to me that you are." Monica turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Robert in the corridor, glaring at her back. After turning around a few corners, she leaned back against the wall and her eyes filled with salty tears. They spilled over her cheeks and ran into her hair which brushed past her face. Monica combed her fingers through it angrily, dislodging the diamonds and they fell to the floor, breaking apart with splashes. She choked and buried her head in her hands.

_Why must people hate me? Why must they? _she asked herself, but deep down inside, she knew the answer: it was because of her betrayal. This turned her thoughts back to the green Rider and new tears formed in her eyes. That cursed elf! Monica had been hurt to the core and her heart ripped. The elf had been the reason for her hurt; the elf had been the reason for her actions in Urû'baen; the whole situation she was in was because of the elf! Monica now nursed a hate for her so deep that it was constantly gnawing at her insides, constantly brooding on that flawless face, and constantly imagining her life if she never existed: living free and away from Urû'baen with Eragon at her side.

That hate had grown over the past weeks until Monica had almost convinced herself that the whole mess of the situation was because of the elf.

_Not me, _she told herself. _Not me. _Monica wanted revenge, she wanted the elf to suffer for the pain she had been through, the pain of being rejected. Monica had come to this conclusion: if she removed the competition, then she, Monica, could win Eragon's heart and they would be together and sire many a child.

"Yes,"she whispered. "Yes." Monica picked herself up and continued her way through the Keep towards her quarters. They were not grand, just an empty room with a hastily made bed in the corner and a high up window set into the wall with a grill on the outside; not much of a room, a cell really. She sat on the bed and interlocked her fingers, mulling things over in her mind. She had made a rough plan about trying to get to the elf so that was her reason for going out that day: to gather information.

The biggest problem which represented itself was the dragon. The dragon would be a problem. But after thinking it over, if the dragon had hatched for the elf, then he could be thrown in too. For if Monica killed the elf, the dragon would be sure to extract revenge on Monica. The solution was to get rid of the dragon first, then the elf. Monica had been looking for a way up onto the roof and had found a place with chips in the wall, enough to be made into makeshift hand and foot holds. After the dragon, then would come to time for revenge. Monica smiled bitterly to herself.

_Yes, then I shall have Eragon for my own. I promise myself this. _Monica smiled eagerly and she lay own, fantasising about the future that awaited her.

_He'll be mine!_

* * *

**ROBERT **WAS IN a foul mood after his encounter with Monica. His leg was paining him again and he scowled. He was suspicious about her behaviour, and who wouldn't be after what happened at the capital? It would set anyone's teeth on edge every time they saw her. He had grown quieter since he had returned. News of what he and his companions had done at the capital had spread like wildfire and he was now idolised. Mothers would point him out to their children as he passed and would whisper, "See that man? He faced the King, lived and fought alongside Eragon Shadeslayer!"

A bittersweet thing really; nothing to be idolised for, nothing to be proud of, for he had failed and now his dearest friend lay dead, rotting who knows where, undoubtedly unburied and dumped. Owar crossed his mind and Robert felt tears in his eyes. Out of all the people he missed – Ari, Fembor, Harwin, Darl, and even Alrad who had always given him a hard time, he longed to have Owar back.

_He was too young, and whoever deprived him of life shall feel my sword through their gut._ Robert turned and limped along the corridor, people lowering their heads and muttering respectfully as he passed. He smiled weakly at each one in return and continued up the corridor. The wound in his leg throbbed but he ignored it, it was expected now. He had let the magicians tend to those that were hurt during the Battle to take Belatona, assuring them that they needed the more attention, although he was now thinking about his decision.

The cold wind on Robert's face woke him up and brought him back to reality. His feet had carried him outside and he grimaced in the cold, burying his hands in his armpits. He wanted to have a walk and considered going back inside for a cloak or some other garment, but then again, he was already here. He passed through the gate and came out on the main street which split Belatona down the middle.

Belatona was split into four sections with four main roads facing north, south, east and west. Robert was on the south road and through the faint light; he could see the gate on the city walls. Robert trudged up the snow covered wall towards the gate, passing several people on the way. His head was low so people didn't recognise him as he passed.

It would snow yet again later, Robert could tell that. It was a bad winter this year.

_At least we aren't out there in the tents, _he thought, much better to be in a dry house than a sodden tent. After walking down the street he climbed up to the battlements and looked out over the snow covered lands.

"Afternoon, sir," a nearby soldier mumbled.

"It looks like it's going be a hard winter," Robert said and the soldier barked with laughter.

"Aye, I 'eard some lady found 'alf a coop of chickens frozen to death in her yard this morning, just proves that it gonna be bloody cold." His breath smoked on the air and he shuddered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Eyeing Robert, he said, "Sir, aren't you freezing?"

"I am," replied Robert and the soldier smiled.

"We got some spare cloaks in the guardroom, if you'd like one, sir, I'm sure we could give you one."

"I would greatly appreciate a cloak," shuddered Robert.

"Come along then, sir," the soldier said, using one of his hands to steady himself on the wall. Robert followed and they shuffled along the ice covered boards together. The soldier looked over along the rooftops and pointed out a form to Robert.

"It's that green dragon. One thing I can't understand is how 'e manages to survive out in freezing temperatures night after night. What I also don't understand is why 'e can't fly over and give a good blast of fire, warm us all up."

"You'd be cooked," pointed out Robert. The solder laughed again.

"Better than being frozen; over quicker, and it's warmer at least; anything to get away from this biting cold."

Robert looked out over the frozen lands and whispered to himself, "Better than being frozen. I hope this winter goes by quickly; we need to march once more."

* * *

That bitch. Let's hate her because she's just a silly roadblock for the ExA.


	48. Chapter 48 -- Moving Out

48

**Moving Out**

_The host rode on. Need drove them. _

**_– The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: J.R.R. Tolkien_**

The weather got even colder as the winter progressed; ice and snow biting fingers and hair so people went around their business huddled in cloaks and with scarves over their faces. Frost covered the ground every morning, spider-webbing over glass windows which a person's fingers would stick to if laid on the surface. Feinster lay in winter's icy clutches and the city was silent apart from the occasional person that needed to move around, but otherwise, the city was silent. Smoke trailed thin fingers into the sky and a glittering green mountain stirred on top of the city.

Snow was flecked on his scales and he shivered, making it fly into the air and only for gravity to gain a hold over it before it tumbled back to earth.

Rámir yawned and stretched, tail held high in the air. He could feel Arya coming closer to him and as he watched, the trapdoor gave a slight bump before it was opened. Arya stepped outside, a thick woollen cloak wrapped around her shoulders and her eyes strayed to Rámir who was coming closer to her, his nose twitching as he sniffed her.

_Did you freeze last night? _Arya said. Rámir snorted and gave a low, rumbling laugh.

_Of course not, do you see me stiff and cold in a block of ice? Then no, I did not freeze, although the tips of my toes have gone slightly numb._

_I'm sorry; I should have given you a source of heat so this would not happen._

_Only a slight discomfort, _Rámir assured her, nuzzling her affectionately and Arya grimaced, still feeling bad. _Don't worry about me, I am a dragon and my ancestors were used to such weather so this in nothing for me._

_At least be comforted to know that the worst of the winter has now passed by since New Year a few weeks ago, _Arya said.

_I was wondering why the humans were celebrating, the smell of rum and wine stung my nostrils that night._

_Don't worry, humans do that and we will be staying around humans for a while yet, but we will be meeting my kind at Dras-Leona when the snows have melted, _Arya said. _It should be soon, an air of spring hangs in the world and the plants are getting ready to show new buds to the world, new life which will bring great joys to my race. _Rámir hummed and lowered his head to the ground, thin trails of smoke rising from his nostrils.

_I can understand this, for I can feel your mind rub against mine and it sends joy through me. Spring is only around the corner now and I for one want to get moving. For too long I've been cooped up here and for too long I have enjoyed ideal comforts. I need to really start living again and bask in the thrill of the hunt and in war. For too long I have been resting and for too long the energy in my muscles has begged for release, so in short, it is high time I must move on. _Rámir lifted his head to the skies and roared, spreading his wings and taking his forelegs off the ground so he sat on his haunches. Arya held her hands to her ears and smiled at Rámir, feeling happy because of his happiness.

_I am ready when you are, Rámir, and I always will be, _Arya murmured to him with her thoughts.

_How much longer do we have to wait then, how much longer would you guess?_

_Two more weeks at most I would put it, _Arya mused, thinking. _Two months have passed since we got here and the worst of the snows have come and the ice is beginning to melt, and as you pointed out, spring is near._

_Will you fly with me? _Rámir asked, stretching out one of his paws to Arya.

_Yes, I think I shall talk to Nasuada about this matter; to ask how long it will be before the Varden should leave._

_She will have a plan, even though I dislike her, she is a strong leader, _Rámir said.

_And even with my past actions against her, it was only because I was worried about you. I have shouted at her, screamed at her when the only thing she was trying to do was protect her people, her family as she has put it more than once. I need to talk with her and I need to say more than one thing to her about my past actions, as well as asking about the future._

_Will you not lose your temper at her then? _asked Rámir, snaking his head towards Arya and placing his feet back on the ground.

_Yes, eka heit._

* * *

**ARYA **KNOCKED ON the wood after the Nighthawks slid their weapons aside to reveal the oaken door which led to Nasuada's new residence which she had taken up for the winter.

"Enter." Nasuada's voice rang forth from the room and Arya turned the knob, pushing the door aside. Nasuada stiffed visibly to Arya's elven eyes, but she regained her composure quickly and smoothed down the front of her dress, trying to appear interested in this sudden turn of events. "Arya, this is indeed a pleasant surprise," Nasuada said, but her eyes betrayed her, they were cold and flat. Arya tilted her head and surveyed the human woman in front of her; Nasuada's thoughts were concealed behind strong barriers, but Arya could tell she was angry at her.

"Why must you be so angry with me? I have only come here because I wish to talk to you," Arya said quickly.

"Oh, yes?" Nasuada said in a cold tone.

_I'm here, you can do this, Arya, _Rámir said in her mind and Arya's will tightened.

"Why must you contradict me when I came here to confess something: I have been in the wrong towards you for a long while now, treating you coldly and having so many arguments even since Eragon and Saphira were taken away from us. I have been a proud fool when I understand that you only were doing what you thought was best for the Varden. I have shouted and screamed at you and it is because of me that Rámir shows dislike towards you. What I seek to calm my races thoughts and to lessen the beat of my heart is your forgiveness. Will you accept it?"

There was silence in the room and Nasuada's neck was pulsing, but her manner was calmer. She frowned and stood up, placing her hands on the desk and looking at the aged wood.

"The very least you could do is accept it, her pain is great as she says," a small voice rang out. Arya smiled slightly as a small figure came out from under the desk and walked around, her violet eyes scanning Arya.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin, förgora," Arya murmured, touching her fingers to her lips. Elva gave a small and seemingly innocent smile, those violet orbs running her up and down.

"She has no reason to harm you and she is asking only the truth. So much regret lies inside you, princess," said Elva, turning from Nasuada to Arya. Arya tightened the barriers around her mind so that only Rámir could hear her thoughts. This issued an even greater and even slyer smile. "Take this weight off her chest, Nasuada, for even greater emotional pain waits for her in the near future, one that will tear her heart in two and one which she will have to fight, no matter the cost," the girl continued, her dark hair shining in the light cast from a small flickering candle on the desk which Nasuada was stationed at.

Arya ignored Elva but some fear crept into her heart; what was the child saying? Was it something to do with Rámir? She cast that thought aside.

_The girl is unnatural, _Rámir hissed. _What being should be able to predict another's pain?_

_Magic works in strange ways, _replied Arya. _We cannot predict how is will act given the circumstance._

_What has happened to the witch girl?_

_I'll explain later._

Elva tilted her chin towards Arya and gave a knowing smile. "You ignore me; ignore what I have to say. The time will come." With that, she turned around and went back to Nasuada and disappeared underneath the desk once more. Nasuada came around the table until she was standing in front of it, glancing back at the grove where Elva was crouching and sighed.

"I trust Elva for she has saved me from many a scrape and you ask for my forgiveness? I have been treating you unfairly as well so we are both in the wrong, but I hope that can change now?"

"Yes, I believe it can be changed." Nasuada smiled and held out her hand cautiously and Arya took it, giving a small smile.

"We have both been acting harshly to each other and now that is cleared up, let us talk of lighter things." Nasuada strode around her desk and sat down in the chair, inviting Arya to take the seat in front of the desk but she declined, preferring to stand up.

"There is another thing I wish to know," Arya pressed. "When shall the Varden march out of Belatona? It is by high time we get moving, and not only this, but I believe that Eragon and Saphira grow in even graver danger every passing day. If we can get to Dras-Leona quickly, Galbatorix is sure to want to defend the second biggest city in his Empire. If we can attack early, Galbatorix is going to be caught on slight unawares and that way, the only way to stand his ground is to send out his two Riders to hold it."

"You mean to steal them back?" Nasuada mused and Arya nodded. The Varden leader placed her elbows on the table top and her chin in her hands, thinking the whole thing over. "You mention graver danger," Nasuada said and Arya nodded. "What could this danger be?"

"Eragon has spent coming up five months in that place along with Saphira," Arya started. "I assume you know why Galbatorix wanted to capture them alive apart from the obvious which is to grow more powerful?"

"Aye," Nasuada said quietly. Arya nodded mournful, perching on the edge of the desk and touch her forehead with the ends of her fingers, mulling it over.

"Every day, Galbatorix has the chance to corrupt the two with even more lies. They know their ground, but with Galbatorix's skills with using his mind, his silver tongue and hundreds of Eldunarí at his back, it is only a matter of time that the two of them can hold out," Arya explained.

"If we somehow manage to march to Dras-Leona, regain Eragon and Saphira and win the day, then what of Murtagh and Thorn?" Arya couldn't help noticing a slight edge of hope in Nasuada's tone here and her interest perked, but she didn't pursue the subject.

"That, I have not worked out yet, but we can try to capture them as well," Arya murmured. "But if the worst comes to the worst, I will not hesitate to drive a sword through him after all he has done. Not only that, but if we capture them and they are allowed to live, it would be very hard pressed to keep them alive. Many elves and dwarves would be more than happy to drive a sword through the two of them while they sleep. It might reflect badly on your position to spare them as well."

Nasuada grimaced and looked at Arya through her lashes.

"But if it helps us to gain an upper hand in this war by keeping them alive, many more lives can be saved because of a decision. Another Rider and dragon fighting for our cause would be a dream come true in many eyes." Arya nodded, thinking about the problem in front of the both of them.

"If the circumstances can even be explained, we would be putting the secret of the dragons at stake. We must keep our silence about what really happened of Gil'ead," Arya said.

"Do you forgive him then?" Nasuada asked.

"No," Arya said after some hesitation, "and I never will. What he has torn from the world is great and even though it wasn't his or his dragon's fault – for I now understand the strength of the bond between Rider and dragon – I will never forgive them."

"I can't say anything in this area. I did not know the ancient pair but I feel the grief that you have suffered, and Eragon's grief."

"But the question is, Nasuada, the original on I wanted to ask," Arya said, steering the topic away from the red Rider and dragon, "is when shall we be leaving Belatona? For the reasons we discussed, leaving early could be our way of getting Eragon and Saphira back."

Nasuada was thinking hard, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes were brooding.

"I had originally planned for the Varden to leave the city in early March," she started, "but if what you speak of is true and it will work, we could maybe arouse them by mid February." She arched an eyebrow as if for confirmation of this new plan and Arya bowed low.

"That would be splendid, the Varden may not agree to this, but if it is to get our allies back, then I think they will be willing to cooperate." Nasuada nodded at this.

"January draws to a close in the next few days; I shall end out the order to vacate the city in two weeks time to give the people some warning for this matter. Not only them but yourself and Rámir, do you two think that you can withstand Murtagh's might, Thorn's fangs and his talons, and conquer your friendship with Eragon and Saphira?" Nasuada inquired.

"It is a lot to ask, but I believe we can," said Arya.

_No, not _believe, _we _will; _have a little hope, Arya, _Rámir said. Arya smiled and turned to leave, her hand resting on the heavy iron door ring. She opened the door and closed shut behind her as she swept out. Her heart was pounding in her chest from excitement as she did her best to keep a calm air around her.

Rámir was waiting outside in the courtyard and he surged to his feet as he felt Arya drew near.

_It is done? _he asked.

_Aye, it is done, _Arya confirmed. Rámir padded forward and nudged Arya with his nose, placing his forehead near her face.

_I'm proud of you; I know it was a hard thing to do because I could feel your every emotion rolling through you like water. But that is not the issue of this time at the moment! What of moving out of Belatona?_

_I have told Nasuada of the consequences of moving out early, especially being able to get Eragon and Saphira back, maybe even gaining Murtagh and Thorn, or possibly killing them. _Arya hated this last thought, even though she despised Murtagh, she wouldn't be able to kill him easily, he'd help save her life and he had waited with her whist Eragon had been unconscious and injured after his duel with Durza. Arya would refuse point blank to kill a dragon, and such would be Thorn's rage if his Rider was killed. Implications, all of these little details that had to be considered.

_This is wonderful, _Rámir murmured to her, _not only have you made up with Nasuada, but there is a glimmer of hope appearing at the end of the tunnel. Finally something to hope for in this darkness. Did you ask when we will leave? _Rámir asked in an urgent voice.

_Aye, two weeks, in two weeks we shall be marching out towards Dras-Leona and hopefully towards a brighter future._

_Then let us rest easy knowing that we shall be moving out soon, and let us rest easy knowing that there is hope that we can regain fallen companions. How about that flight now? _Rámir asked.

_That would lift my heart, _Arya replied. Rámir settled down and Arya climbed onto the crest of his back. Rámir stood up and shook his head, then raised his wings, crouching, and then jumped, driving his wings down into the ground so that he became airborne.

The wind was bitterly cold and Arya clung to Rámir's back, hunkering down low to help reduce the coldness from the air. It was pleasant and she closed her eyes enjoying the sting bite of the cold and enjoying being with Rámir.

_How life is meant to be, _she thought. She could feel Rámir's wings pounding down on either side of her as he flew through the sky, often gliding and looking back at his Rider to reassure himself that she was alright.

_Soon, _he whispered and Arya closed her eyes, listening to the great pounding of his heart and his side expanding at he breathed. Rámir was safe, she was safe, but not everyone she cared about was. Eragon and Saphira were still in grave danger, it was now a matter of time and how strong they were to able to hold out against the danger and all that it implied.

"Please be strong for my sakes," she whispered, "and for the good of the free peoples."

* * *

**BATTLE-STORM'S **HOOVES CLACKED on the cobbled ground and Nasuada sat atop him wearing a red woollen cloak and a matching dress underneath made of the finest silks and cloths. The Varden were massed in front of her, sunlight reflecting off helms, armour and weapons.

"Today, we will leave Belatona and continue onwards towards Dras-Leona, one more step to casting off that tyrant from his throne and ending his evil forever!" This was met with a deafening cheer from the Varden. "This may be the days that the tides will turn, for reasons I will keep to myself for this present minute, but with your courage and your effort, this war may be over by next harvest. This war may be over so very soon, or it could continue for another century, or even a millennium, but let it be known that you will be remembered. Every one of you has come so far, marched from Farthen Dûr this past year. Many of you fought alongside me at the dwarven capital and on the Burning Plains, all in the name of a greater cause, to cast the usurper off of his black throne.

"We have all suffered during this war, and I thank you, brave soldiers, and I always will. May it be known that everyone of you helped to tip the balance of this war and every one of your efforts have contributed to the Varden!" This was met by another wall of noise and Nasuada smiled, turning Battle-storm around towards the main gate. It was heaved open and the hinges groaned, exposing the land still dotted with patches of white, but this was ignored. Nasuada started forwards and the tramping of feet followed a few seconds later.

Arya and Rámir watched from the battlements and Rámir commented, _She is a strong leader and now I can see why so many admire her. Her heart is strong and even though I still dislike her to a degree, I can see why so many follow her and believe in her._

_And that is what I admire her for, she truly is her father's daughter, _Arya said.

_That she is, gaining what I have learnt from your memories. Come, climb onto my back and let us be away from here and let us embrace our destiny, let us go and help our kin. _Arya climbed up on to Rámir's back ad settled down on the saddle, tightening the leg straps and resting her hand on the spike in front of her. Rámir leapt into the air, the membrane snapping open in the breeze and they soared above the tongue of men exiting Belatona, turning north and up the side of Leona Lake.

She was grateful to Nasuada for doing this. An air of new hope hung around her.

* * *

*insert Braveheart music here*


	49. Chapter 49 -- Face to Face

49

**Face to Face**

_"They are coming." _

**_– Lynx Patronous: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I_**

Rámir came into land, the wind from his wings whipping up a storm. His back legs touched down on the grass, followed by his front legs, the muscles rippling as his legs absorbed the impact from landing. Arya shivered from the cold up in the air which she had had been flying through for the last few hours and her hands shook as she loosened the straps immobilising her legs. She slid down the dragon's side and he swung his head around and peered at her with large, emerald eyes.

_I still need to get accustom to the cold, _Arya confessed.

_Why not wear a cloak? _Rámir suggested.

_I'm rugged up! I have four layers on and winter has just passed! You can't blame me, _Arya said defensively. Rámir's stone grinding laugh filled the air and he turned his body around so he faced his Rider.

_I can always blame you, _he said, his voice containing the hint of a laugh. _But don't worry about that. You can't blame me because I would snap you up otherwise. _Arya let slip a small smile here. She looked around to see the Varden coming to a halt on the spot and more of them drawing up behind and wandering. Nasuada swung herself down from her charger, groaning a little and closing her eyes as she got off the high saddle. After a few seconds, she straightened up and looked around.

"The scouts were right," she murmured. She looked over towards Arya and winter, and walked over with the Nighthawks close behind her, the men and dwarves mounted on horses and scruffy ponies. The Urgals had declined any horses or forms of transport, preferring their own two feet. Bending over to one of the human guards, she murmured something to him, but neither Arya nor Rámir heard what she was saying. He bowed and scurried off.

Walking over, Nasuada said to Arya, "It should be a couple more days until we reach Dras-Leona's walls. Not only that, but the Empire has been spotted over the horizon." She pointed in a north-west direction.

"Yes, we too saw them," Arya said and Rámir agreed with a nod.

_A whole column of them, broad and long. It seemed like at least sixty thousand men. _Nasuada swore to herself quietly after Rámir had finished.

"We are only fifty thousand strong. Not only that, but there are more of the Empire residing in Dras-Leona itself and there would be more than a few people wanting to fight to defend their city and bizarre beliefs," she said bitterly. "To couple that, Galbatorix would be very willing to defend his second biggest city. Once we penetrate the walls and take the city with the help of the elves, we will truly have a chance at victory." Arya nodded to all of this. They had received a message from Queen Islanzadí earlier that week, agreeing to Nasuada's plan about attacking the city at an earlier date than planned.

"If all goes smoothly, then we will be blessed indeed. Eragon and Saphira will be in our control again, not in that dragon slayer's. And we have the red Rider brought to justice," she had said bitterly. Arya's hands had tightened when she had heard her mother's words about controlling the Riders, but she had kept her peace.

_Dragons and Riders are not weapons or tools to be wielded in battle, _Arya had commented to Rámir who had growled in response.

_No Rider should be treated like that, and a dragon should not be shackled and forced into obeying another being, _he hissed, flexing his claws so they had brought up small chunks of the earth – which was still slightly frozen with frost. _Arya, tell your mother that she should not treat a Rider and dragon like a weapon to be used whenever they please._

_Rámir! I can't say that, not so soon after Oromis and Glaedr had passed into the void, _Arya exclaimed. Rámir had snorted and crawled forwards on his belly, fixing Islanzadí with a hard gaze. The Queen had met his gaze coolly and her voice had pierced the awkward silence which had been stretching between them. "Arya, what angers Rámir so?" Arya closed her eyes in defeat and repeated Rámir's message, regaining her composure and adding, "I can see the direction Rámir is coming from; I must say that similar thoughts crossed my mind." Islanzadí had sighed and rubbed her temples with slim fingers.

"Aye, I was wrong. Will you forgive me, Bjartskular?" the Queen asked. Rámir had fixed his glittering emerald eyes on Islanzadí and had nodded slowly.

_Tell her also that I forgive her, _he had said quietly, so Arya had. The Queen had touched two of her fingers to her lips and murmured in the ancient language, "I am glad that my mistake has been over looked. But now back to the topic." She had said the last sentence in the common tongue. "I can meet you at Dras-Leona's walls in two weeks. Teirm has fallen not three days ago so we can expect no attack taking our rear – as if those humans could withstand such might anyways." Nasuada had nodded in agreement, pacing back and forth with her skirts swishing by her feet before she had stopped.

"I will send a messenger to meet you by the Lake's edge in a week and I will await your reply," Nasuada had decided.

"So be it. May the stars watch over you, Nasuada. And may they watch over you as well, my daughter and Brightscales." With those parting words, the elven queen had vanished from the mirror's surface.

"When will you send your messenger, Nasuada?" Arya now asked, looking towards Nasuada, surfacing out of the recent memory.

"Tomorrow," she replied, "at dawn." Arya nodded and Rámir growled.

_Good, I am longing to sink my claws into the armour of men, I need to bathe in blood and roar to the skies, for I am not one to sit idly and watch others to do the fighting for me. For too long I have sat at the sidelines, I long to take some of the glory for myself. _Rámir's eyes glittered and he looked towards the setting sun. The wind changed direction and Rámir froze. A silence hung in the air and he was perfectly still. His tongue flicked out of his mouth briefly.

_Rámir? _Arya whispered, worry etching her voice.

_It can't be, _he said simply.

_Rámir, what do you smell? _Arya asked, but Rámir had gotten to his feet, still scenting the air.

_Fly with me, _he said suddenly. _I have to see something._

_Rámir, I don't understand what this is about, _Arya said slowly, but she was moving towards Rámir and swung herself up into the saddle again. Rámir took off as soon as she had gotten a leg over him and she lunged forwards, grabbing the spike in front of her. _Rámir, what is this about? _Arya demanded.

_I need to clear my head, _he replied.

_Will you just tell me what this is about? _Arya snapped at him. Rámir shook himself and landed close by the edge of Leona Lake. Arya climbed off him and looked at him in the eye. _Rámir, I demand you to tell me. I can feel your mind wheeling._

_I smell another dragon, _he whispered after a while. _The Empire, why you wanted to come here earlier than we had originally planned. They're here. _Arya saw an image come into Rámir's head. Sapphire scales filled her vision along with a glittering eye, and then red scales swum in front of her eyes along with two people, one an elf with brown hair and the other human with matching hair. Both sported brown eyes.

"Eragon," she whispered.

_They're here, within the Empire's ranks, _Rámir growled, unfurling his wings slightly and shaking his head, fixing Arya with worried eyes. _I want to fight, I do, but not other dragons, _he said.

_And I don't want to fight my friends, _Arya whispered. Rámir lowered his head and Arya pressed her forehead against his. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Rámir pulled his head out of her grasp. He let out a roar which rebounded off the surrounding landscape, rolling across the land. He looked towards the east and flared his wings, eyes flashing and he took a few steps forward, placing a foreleg in front of Arya in a protective gesture.

Arya whipped around in the direction of Rámir's eyes and saw a figure standing on a hilltop. He was standing alone, a sheathed sword by his hip and a cloak around his shoulders. He was watching them quietly.

_He smells of dragon, _Rámir replied to Arya's furious look.

_Dragon, are you sure?_

_Positive, my smell rubs off on you so you would smell similar; I would never mistake that scent._

_Who then—? _But Arya already knew the answer, but she prayed that she was wrong.

There was a stir of movement behind the person on the hill and a dragon emerged behind him. The sun came out of a cloud then and Arya choked. It was Saphira.

She had grown since Arya had last seen her and a fire burnt in her eyes, replacing the kind spark they had possessed before. She lifted her head and gave a roar that echoed over the land along with a huge tongue of blue fire. Then, Arya came to realise that that person could only be one other.

"Eragon," she whispered. Her knees began to shake and she leant on Rámir for support. "It can't be, he doesn't look like the Eragon I knew." His hair was longer, shaggier and there was a scowl on his face, but it was the same face she knew, the same sword that hung at his side and the same eyes, now dark and clouded as if with anger. She could make out a small scar just above his left eye now which hadn't been present last time she had seen him. More troubled. She stood for a long while, watching Eragon in the distance and he returned her gaze steadily, calmly.

Arya looked back at him and stepped around Rámir's leg. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"Eragon." The name slipped from her lips for a third time, and it seemed that his name acted as a trigger, for her turned around and vanished, Saphira following him with a flick of her tail. No tears came to Arya's eyes, but the shock of seeing Eragon so…cold. It confused her. Rámir looked around and nudged her softly with his nose.

_You are confused, _he said softly.

_It's been months. I never knew a person could be changed so much, _Arya told him.

_Be strong for me, alright? _he said in a gentle voice. _You knew ever since you had that dream that this day would come, and here it is. _There was sadness in his voice and he pushed harder against Arya. _It'll be alright, I promise, _he whispered.

_So much suffering, _Arya said slowly, _and still so much to come. This is a form of suffering, and I dread its arrival._

_And the last thing I wish for is to fight one of my own race, _Rámir hissed. _Two of my own race to be exact. _His voice was laced with bitterness and he snorted. He growled with frustration as Arya began to run towards the spot where Eragon had stood with Saphira and he jumped into the air, flying low and close to the ground. _Arya, please._

She crested the hill and saw the huge column of the Empire's soldiers she and Rámir had spotted from the air heading towards Dras-Leona, snaking passed Helgrind. Eragon and Saphira were nowhere to be seen. Rámir landed beside her and looked out over the land and towards the Empire's ranks.

_We have to fight _that? he asked. Arya nodded and stood with a stiff back, thoughts of Eragon wheeling through her mind and Rámir's words. _Be strong for me._

* * *

**NASUADA **WENT TIGHT-LIPPED when she heard Rámir's account of the recent events that had taken place. Arya had remained silent, one hand on her sword. She was shaking slightly and she sat in her high-backed chair.

"Eragon, it is a pity that this has befallen him and Saphira. He now shares Murtagh's fate," she whispered, tears in her eyes. Arya recognised that she had said a similar thing after the Burning Plains after Murtagh's reappearance. "But the question is will you two be strong enough to fight against him and Murtagh along with Saphira and Thorn? There are four of them and two of you and I am afraid that they will be much stronger than you."

"They will be, for they will both have Eldunarya supporting them and bolstering their strength," Arya said in a composed manner.

"Will you be able to stand up to them and try to match their levels with the help of the elves and Glaedr?" she asked, clutching at the table as if it were a life-line.

"I do not know about that," Arya said in the same tone, "but we will stand more of a chance rather than if we were on our own. Be comforted about that, Nasuada. Rámir and I are far from helpless, remember that."

"And I shall not forget that. I am just worried that we will lose you as well in this battle. If that happens, then we will truly be doomed." Nasuada was fidgeting uncontrollably, clenching and unclenching her hands, rolling up one of the many scrolls in front of her before flattening it out, and then repeating the action and grasping the table edges. Arya could see the worry and the stress eating away at her and she closed her eyes, taking a breath.

"Nasuada, I can reassure you that we won't be taken. Although this may be our first battle, we are strong," she said.

"I have confidence in you, but I cannot silence that little nagging doubt in my mind," fretted Nasuada, finally standing up and walking around the desk to face Arya. "For us and the Varden's sakes, you need to stay strong, crush that voice in my mind telling me you can't do it, prove me wrong." Arya looked at Nasuada and unlike herself, took Nasuada's hand in her own and said in a whisper, "I will prove you wrong, we will prove it." Rámir snorted and crawled forwards on his belly so his head could stretch further into the tent.

_I second that, _he said with a sort of finality. _Do not worry that we will suffer the same fate as the other two Riders. I am glad that you have confidence in us and that we aren't on rocky terms anymore, but it doesn't mean you have to worry about us. We are a dragon and Rider after all._

"Eragon and Saphira are as well, and look what happened to them!" Nasuada said with a sigh, pacing back and forth in front of the desk. Smoke poured from Rámir's nostrils and he shifted his weight.

_That they were, but they have been in many a fight before, and also beaten the stunted-thoughts-dragon and his Rider with the help of elves. But none the less, I am not trying to be arrogant and over confident in my abilities and sure of what's to come, but we will be meeting up with them so very soon, I am sure they would not mind lending us some of their strength._

"I agree with Rámir," Arya said suddenly. "My kinsmen will not mind for us to borrow some of their strength. If it is for the greater good and to rescue Saphira and Eragon, they will whole-heartedly agree with our reasoning and cause. Not only that, but I am sure that Glaedr with lend us his strength."

"Then I think that the matter is resolved then," Nasuada said, coming to a halt and quizzically looking at the dragon and Rider. "The only thing that I am truly worried about is what you will be going through. I am worried for your well being." She finished quietly, staring at the desktop before straightening her back. "But we have no choice unless our men grow wings and have the heart and courage to fight two fully grown dragons."

"And my kin will refuse to kill any dragon in the first place," Arya murmured.

_As they should, _Rámir told her quietly.

"Are you sure about this?" Nasuada said and Arya sighed, crossing her arms.

"I thought we already came to an agreement about that. Besides, what choice do we have?" she said. Nasuada started to pace again.

"I'm just so uncertain at this time! One half of me is saying to do this and the other half is saying for me to do that. Not only that, but then I have to ask King Orrin about it, consult with the Council of Elders. This campaign is causing me so much stress. The Varden is my family in a way, as I have said before, and I am worried for every single person. This is taxing a huge toll from me." Nasuada hit the table with her fists, shouting out with frustration. "Why?" she whispered. She was shaking from head to toe, leaning on the desk for support. "Why me? This isn't fair!" She calmed herself slightly and said in a soft voice, "I'll send the messenger to meet the elves now."

"Nasuada," Arya said suddenly, "I wish to go instead of a messenger. I can be that messenger. I wish to be among my own people if you can understand that."

"How will you get past the Empire?" Nasuada asked.

_Nasuada, you seem to forget that Arya is not alone and nor is she helpless, _Rámir interjected. _I can fly around the Empire and across the lake. _Nasuada looked from Arya to Rámir and sighed, turning around.

"I don't see the harm in that," she said after a few seconds of silence. "But, Arya, it would be best if you and Rámir could be back by tomorrow night. Tell the Queen I send her my warmest greetings and I want to speak with her soon over the scrying mirrors to discuss the upcoming battle."

Arya murmured, "It shall be done as you wish." Arya exited the pavilion and Rámir surged to his feet and shook his wings out, looking down at his Rider.

_Let us be off then, _he said. Arya nodded and climbed atop Rámir. He crouched, raised his wings and took to the air, balancing on thermals for a second and unfolding his huge wings before driving them towards the ground, shaking the tents below him.


	50. Chapter 50 -- Forsworn

50

**Forsworn**

_The hope of people torn apart _

**_– Charles Wesley: Catholic Worship Book_**

Eragon turned away from the green dragon and his Rider, walking back towards Saphira who was waiting for him a few paces behind.

_How do you fare with seeing her again? _she asked in a low voice.

_You can feel my emotions, _he said slowly.

_I know, but I want to hear it from you, _she said. He came up to her head and scratched under her jaw. Saphira's low humming filled the area.

_I feel…angry, confused, _Eragon said. Saphira fixed him with one of her huge eyes, the pupil scrutinising him. _I feel lost, and I feel some affection, _he finished in a whisper. _But my affection is not as strong as it was before in Ellesméra. Galbatorix showed me the elves through his eyes, and I can see what he meant about them. They are afraid to face the truth of the world._

_Eragon. _Saphira rounded on him, baring her teeth and flaring her wings. _You made a promise to me that you would never stray down the path that Galbatorix has trode. _Eragon scowled at her and she raised her tail as well.

_It doesn't matter anymore, _he snapped.

_You swore in the ancient language._

_But I haven't gone down that path! I still have my separate personality which means however you view the matter, I am not Galbatorix._

_But you are becoming like him. Eragon, I am worried about you. _Eragon blinked, Saphira was right in a way, but he pushed it aside, but the reality still troubled him slightly, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

_Why should you be worrying about me? _It had come out harsher than he meant it and Saphira could feel his guilt about what he had said to her. _I'm sorry, _he said in a whisper and Saphira gently licked his arm, lowering her tail and wings.

_Little one, I can understand the direction you are coming from, compelled to put aside your other thoughts and points, but please do not sink lower, _she said in a compassionate voice.

_I'm trying so hard though, Saphira. Please understand that, _he said. She sighed, blowing warm air in his face and Eragon moved closer to her.

_Of course I can understand that, I can feel you thoughts whirling at this very second. We should be heading back anyways, _Saphira said gently. _After all, it was you who wanted to come out here._

_What could I want from her? _Eragon said in a steely voice. _I wanted to see her dragon, to see what we were up against._

_You're hiding something, _Saphira said in an almost playful voice.

_I'm not, _Eragon said, but Saphira ignored him.

_Eragon, I can read you as easily as I would the trails of a deer, only easier, it's one of the disadvantages of sharing your mind with another._

_And you're never going to stop taking advantage of that, are you?_

_Of course not, _she chuckled.

_I thought not, _Eragon said and Saphira let out a low laugh, the stone grinding sound travelling throughout the area. Eragon stumbled slightly as his foot hit a loose rock and Saphira let out a gentle growl.

_I'm alright, _he mumbled softly.

_I can see that, _Saphira said slowly. _Come, let us fly in the clouds and forsake this walking. _Saphira shook her head and her wings out as Eragon climbed onto her back. She took to the skies, balancing on the air before driving her wings downwards. _Now I can think more clearly, I can also sense your confusion in a much stronger manner, _Saphira said. Eragon looked down at his hands – which were clasped tightly around Saphira's neck spike – and shielded his mind slightly. Saphira shook her head, laughing at the same time and she flapped, and then glided. She flew straight, not in the loopy and fun manner as she would have done half a year ago. Silence lapsed between them so the only sounds Eragon could hear was the wind in his ears and Saphira's wing strokes.

_I don't want to land, _Eragon said slowly.

_I never want to, the sky is my peace._

_And it is mine._

_Come, it is time to land, we weren't far off. _She flared her wings, slowing down so she came to rest on the grass. Her eyes were sparkling as she looked around at Eragon as she landed. Saphira had landed a few hundred metres from the advancing column which was due to reach the city of Dras-Leona in the next hour or two. Saphira started off in the direction of the city at a leisurely pace, her claws sinking into the soft earth. She cast a critical eye in the direction of the soldiers and snorted. _It is so different to be around them than it is to be around the Varden's soldiers._

_How so? _Eragon asked.

_They are rougher, less polite. Arrogant even, _she said. Eragon shrugged.

_They are human, it is what humans do after all, and not every race is as polite as those elves. Besides, it doesn't matter, all that does is that you don't take what they think to heart, O Queen of the Heavens._

_Eragon, _she said slowly, _you know that Galbatorix is above us in every way possible, I am not Queen of the Heavens; it was childish and arrogant of me to think that at all._

_You will always be a queen to me, _said Eragon and Saphira hummed with joy.

_That means a lot to me, _she whispered.

They were close to the column of men now and Saphira's eyes narrowed and her tail flicked from side to side. Some of the men eyed her wearily as she filed in alongside them, snorted, and then took to the skies again, much to the cursing a shouting of the soldiers.

_What was the point of landing if you were going to fly again two minutes later? _Eragon asked.

_I don't know, _was her reply. _I'm not thinking straight, not since what happened at Urû'baen. Months of that. _Eragon nodded and a deep sorrow welled up inside him.

_I'm sorry for you, _he said. _I can feel your pain and distress. _She keened slightly, flaring her wings and swinging her head back around to look to her Rider.

_You comfort me, _she said. Her conscious was warm against his own and Eragon closed his eyes.

_I failed you, _he said. Saphira's confusion rushed through him and Eragon dug his fingers under her scales.

_You didn't._

_I did; Saphira, I made a promise to you the day we lost our freedom, I promised that I would help you, that I would stop Galbatorix making this come around, and I failed. _Saphira realised what he was talking about and her warmth, her love for him brushed his fears away.

_I heard you, I heard you in my mind, I felt your anger pass through me…I felt your pain, _Saphira said slowly.

The memories came back at that moment; bloody fists punching and hitting against hard wood and Eragon's burning throat as he continued to scream himself hoarse, cursing the King, falling on the floor, curling into a ball and crying, not caring about the hard marble against his temple, oblivious to the cold.

_Eragon, I hate to see you like this, _Saphira said. _It has happened._

_You didn't want it to, _he said, defeat in his voice and he slumped his shoulders. _I feel horrible for breaking my promise to you; I never wanted this to happen._

_But it did. Eragon, whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, you know of the life that stirs within me._

* * *

**ERAGON'S **HANDS TIGHTENED and he blinked tears out of his eyes. His arms were shaking with the force of how hard he was gripping the sapphire scales.

_What I can't stand to see, _he said, _is that you just seem to accept these events. _Saphira snarled from underneath him.

_Accept them? _she fumed. _Eragon, I am outraged by the turn of events, but I always knew they were coming._

_Then what was that comment before about whether I like it or not? You seemed pleased._

_I am far from pleased, _she hissed. _How can you even say that? Eragon, I should knock some sense into your head! Can you feel my anger and pain? _Her answer hung between them, but Eragon didn't apologise straight off the bat.

_Your tone said otherwise, your words—_

_Ignore that, _Saphira hissed, _I am filled with rage about what happened; get that into your head. _Her snappy reply caused Eragon to frown and he shifted his position.

_I didn't—_

_Didn't what? _snarled Saphira. _Didn't what, exactly?_

_Saphira! Please, we are a pair, I don't want to fight._

_Then apologise. _Eragon sighed, and then whispered, _I'm sorry; your words weren't of the best choice. _Saphira's tense muscles relaxed to a degree and she looked straight ahead, concentrating on flying. _I was wrong._

_You were, _she said bitterly.

"Be that way then,"he said aloud. _But don't think that this argument will shift my affection for you, _he said softly with his mind. Saphira growled slightly underneath him, but she was listening to her Rider. _I was scared that day, scared for you. I was angry as well; I didn't know what was going to happen next. I didn't know how it was going to end. I still am angry; I will never forgive the King for what he did to you, _Eragon continued in a low voice, anger behind his words. _I will never let this matter go._

_Thank you. _Saphira's reply was a whisper, but Eragon was glad for her reply, it gave him a small comfort at least.

_Will we be angry with eachother anymore? _he asked.

_What point is there being angry now? You have accepted what I said, _Saphira said in the same voice. _Besides, we are almost at the city, and we're trying to defend it, not destroy the place and do the work for the Varden like we used to. _Eragon chuckled and rubbed Saphira's side.

_I'm glad that we have forgiven eachother. Thank you for understanding. _

Saphira had flown a little way ahead of the army by about a mile or so, so she turned to the right and glided on silent wings for a heartbeat before flapping them. Eragon enjoyed her company with him as the gap between the soldiers and Dras-Leona closed. A movement over the lake caught his attention.

_Saphira? _Eragon asked.

_I saw it too, _she said, her eyes scanning the lake's surface. Saphira hissed when she saw what had caught her eye. _The green dragon, _she said in a tight voice, _and his Rider. _Eragon's eyes flashed and his mind instantly turned to the night of the Agaetí Blödhren. Saphira lunged forwards slightly, but Eragon murmured, _Let them go for now; soon, we will be meeting them in battle, the time for fighting will be then. _Saphira snorted and slowed down a fraction, watching as the green dragon soared across the lake's surface around the city of Dras-Leona – giving it a berth of about a mile – and off again. Eragon squinted and to his slight dismay, saw another campsite sitting low and next to the lakeside. Eragon could make out the smaller details of the camp with his hawk-like vision and recognised the tents, the equipment and some of the people within it.

_Elves, _he said bitterly. Saphira hissed.

_Galbatorix warned us against the pointed-ears, this battle will be harder than expected, I think. _Eragon nodded as Saphira voiced her opinion.

_But we will still win though, _Eragon said in a confident tone.

_That we will, and we will crush this resistance and grind them out of existence, beat them so badly that no one will stand up to the King again. Balance will come once more, _Saphira said and Eragon nodded in agreement.

_And at least we can have some peace, _he said quietly.

_That would be most welcoming, _Saphira agreed.

_Eragon, Saphira. _The new voice startled Eragon slightly but he recognised it. _Come down, there are some things we must discuss quickly. _

_Saphira? _Eragon said. She complied by clasping her wings and diving down towards the ground, her tail rippling out behind her. The clouds brushed her gently as she dove through them towards the column of advancing soldiers who were only a few hundred feet from Dras-Leona's portcullis, but the gate remained shut. Eragon squinted because of the wind rushing in his eyes and he could make out Thorn's figure, along with a smaller one which Eragon knew belong to Murtagh sitting on his back. Shouts of fear rose from the city when Saphira appeared and as she neared the ground, she flared her wings to slow down before landing heavily on the ground. Not once did she look at Thorn as she drew beside him. Her muscles were clenched and Eragon could feel the raw emotions coming off her. Thorn gazed at Saphira under lidded eyes and hung his head slightly.

"I said for you to open the gates." Murtagh's voice sounded from beside Eragon and it was strained, impatient.

"How do we know that you ain't gonna destroy our homes, Morzansson?" a voice shouted in reply. "Why would we trust you and the blue Rider? You are both corrupt, the new generation of Forsworn, and you wished to be welcomed into our city with open arms." Murtagh's eyes flashed and he fixed his glare on the iron bars, anger lining his features. Saphira snarled and flared her wings, crouching slightly.

"You have no idea what I have been through, but we will not destroy your city. Dras-Leona is the second biggest settling in Galbatorix's empire, why would he want it to be lost to the rebellion? And are you blind? Behind me are sixty thousand men of the Empire to defend your city on Galbatorix's orders." Murtagh drew a small scroll from Thorn's saddlebags and brandished it in the air. There was silence from within the city.

Then: "Let us see that note you have there, and then I shall make up my mind to open the gate." Murtagh saw Eragon looked at him slightly and Murtagh said with his mind, _Lord Marcus Tábor is very distrustful of us and is refusing to open the gate on my command. He isn't comfortable with our presence because of what happened last year when Galbatorix came to Dras-Leona. _Eragon grunted in reply, remembering how he had felt when he had learned that Galbatorix had visited Dras-Leona only days after he and Brom had left the city.

There was silence for a few minutes, and then the portcullis was opened a fraction. A horse came through the gap and it skittered nervously when it caught the scent of the two dragons. A pale faced messenger was grimly hanging onto the reins of the horse, trying desperately to soothe the animal. Murtagh dismounted Thorn and walked forward the meet the messenger, handing him the scroll which the man took in shaking fingers. Then he turned around and vanished back into the city, eager to be away from Murtagh. Murtagh turned on his heel and trudged back towards Thorn, patting him on his side as he passed and pulled himself back up onto the saddle.

"No one seems to trust me," Murtagh said quietly to himself, gripping the saddle in front of him with shaking hands. "But we are not Forsworn, Thorn, we never will be. I will keep the freedom of my mind."

Eragon was troubled slightly by what the man had shouted out as well. But there was truth behind his words. Never in his wildest daydreams had he imagined this, but he was facing the reality of it now. He hated this situation, but he was helpless to stop it.

_We will never be Wyrdfell, _Saphira said softly, trying to make Eragon feel better about the situation, but it didn't do much to help; he was staring blankly at the ground, thoughts wheeling. _Eragon?_

_He's right, _Eragon said miserably.

_No. We have been forced to serve, whereas they chose it of their own free will. That will forever separate us from them, _she said. The grinding of the gate brought Eragon out of his brooding and he looked up, squaring his shoulders at the same time.

"I do not let you in willingly, but I only let you because it is the will of the King and I do not want to suffer the consequences should I fail my actions," said the man who was presumably Tábor. Murtagh looked around to see the soldiers start forwards again, a huge column of men with shining armour, glittering weapons and a jumble of other things. He drew his sword from its sheath and lifted Zar'roc high.

"Come in if you are hungry, come in if you are weary, for soon, we will do battle!" he cried in a ringing voice. This was met by a titanic wave of sound which echoed over the surrounding land as the soldiers shouted their enthusiasm. Saphira started forwards, walking between the gates and emerging on the other side, shaking her head at the same time. The place was as Eragon just remembered it, the untidy houses dotted around the place, made of dark wood and worn down with the cathedral dominating the scene. The spire towered above the houses and the city, splitting the sky like a thunderbolt. The only thing which had changed was the noise; the city was silent apart from the sounds of the advancing army.

There were scurrying footsteps behind them and Eragon twisted around to see a small knot of people coming towards him and Murtagh, wearing fine robes. They limped, struggled and in one case, dragged their way towards them. Eragon knew instantly that these were all due to their beliefs and the religion they all followed. One of them stepped forwards when the group reached them and bowed low. One of his hands was missing; the only thing which remained was a shining stump.

"I humbly welcome you to my city, I am Marcus Tábor and I bid you welcome," he said hurriedly, although his tone said otherwise.

"Then will you and your peoples find places where the men can rest and stay?" Murtagh said in a low voice.

"Of course, my lord," Tábor said in a small voice, "but I think we should find a place for you and your…beasts to stay." Saphira growled softly and snaked her head towards Tábor.

_I will let you know, _she said in a menacing voice, _that we are not horses or some other animal which do your bidding. _Tábor flinched away and turned his gaze back towards Murtagh.

"Come, I will show you where you can stay," he said in a shaking voice. He walked off at a brisk pace, his robes flapping behind him followed by what Eragon presumed to be his advisors, and then by himself, Saphira, Murtagh and Thorn into the heart of the city. They walked in silence for a while, Saphira's talons clicking on the stone beneath her and her tail brushing the houses she passed. Eragon heard several frightened whimpers from within with his sensitive hearing. They drew closer to the cathedral all the while, Tábor keeping a steady pace, eager to be in front of the two dragons; perspiration lined his brow as he hurried throughout the streets, weaving in and out of streets and lanes.

_These people are as frightened as rabbits, _Saphira admonished. _What can they hope to gain by having their dwellings scattered about the place? Already I am lost and feeling slightly dizzy in my head._

_Don't worry about it, _said Eragon in a low voice, stroking her neck.

They encountered no one as they went; the streets were deadly quiet so the city appeared to be deserted. Finally, they stepped into the open to find the cathedral right next to them. Eragon ducked his head and Saphira followed Tábor around, a reasonable distance from the front step.

* * *

The not-so-glorious return of Luke Skywa- I mean, Eragon and his fire-breathing lizard.


	51. Chapter 51 -- The Female Warriors

51

**The Female Warriors**

_"…Here is my first command…" _

**_– Bartimaeus, The Ring of Solomon: Jonathan Stroud_**

_"T__he world is a cruel place, Eragon." The whisper hissed in his ears like a serpent, seeming to echo inside his head and reverberate like a bell which had been struck. He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to remain calm, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The darkness did not go away with the simple action of lowering his eyelids, it pressed in on him from all around, but the worst thing was he could not escape it, no matter how hard he tried; and always, there was that feeling inside his head. He felt slightly groggy and out of sync with the world, almost pleasantly sleepy like after he had had a hot meal and clambering into his bed on a winter's night, hearing a rough but reassuring voice coming from somewhere as a gale howled outside. "I have learnt this the hard way, and I am offering you an easy way out of it."_

_"Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "I am listening to you." Opening his eyes, he saw a glitter of light near his head and he cast his gaze downwards towards the floor, head bowed and not daring to move a muscle. Fingers were pressed on the back of his neck and the feeling in his head shifted, as if it were hunting around for a scent._

_"I can sense your fear," a voice murmured softly. "Why do you fear me so?"_

_He licked his lips and shifted his position slightly._

_"Because of what you've done." A soft laugh emanated out of the blackness which turned into a dark chuckle. "With the stories I used to hear when I was a child, taught to fear and hate you from the very time I could walk," he pressed on._

_"Such things do not depart easily from one's mind, but I can assure you this: I am not an evil man. I made this Empire not because of how angry I was at the Elders, but because of love. You know of whom I speak. I loved her, just as you love Saphira, and you of all people can understand the feelings towards someone who is always there, who is ready to listen to you at a moment's notice, who never blames you for what you have done because they can understand your very person, even look into your true self. _

_"She was dear to me, and I miss her more every passing hour. You do not know how terrible it is to have that person who you could always confide in torn away from you in an instant, to see that being die in your arms, your fingers laced with their blood, the blood of the one who you love, and you could only watch them pass into the void, helpless to act to save them." _

_He saw the clash of weapons, the roaring of some mighty beast which turned suddenly into a scream of pain which in turn blossomed in his chest. He winced but the feeling vanished in an instant. The fingers were lifted from his neck and his mind was somewhat ease, but it still felt slightly sluggish._

_"Don't you understand, Eragon? I did what I did for her, Jarnunvösk. You must surely know, you must feel it in the narrow in your bones. I speak nothing but the truth."_

_"I cannot say," he said in a whisper, "for I have not gone through what you have."_

_"Do you pity me?" The question was unexpected and caught him off-guard so his mind was blank for an answer. He opened his mouth to say "No", but the words were stuck in his throat. Again, there was that eerie presence in his mind._

_Instead: "Yes."_

_"Good. I wish to unveil to you the true way of the world, and to turn you to the light, the centre of my Empire, my creation which you and your dragon will serve and help it ascend into everlasting glory. You will be by my side for the whole thing; for this is something I would not want you to miss for the world."_

There was a knock on the door; it was a sharp sound in the sleepy silence. Eragon opened his eyes, staring at the bed canopy above him and lying still for a few seconds, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind wheeling. He sat up in bed, his hand reaching towards Brisingr's hilt, his muscles tense and ready to spring at a moment's notice.

"Yes?" he asked softly and the door was pushed open. Eragon sat up, revealing himself to be fully dressed and he leapt out of bed when he saw a quaking servant at the door.

"You are wanted at the Keep, sir, with your dragon as well," he said in a small voice.

"Go," Eragon said, flicking his hand away and the servant scurried away. Eragon sighed and took up Brisingr, buckling it onto his belt and concentrating on the straps. His fingers were shaking with the prospect which the servant had woken him.

_Do you think it's time, Saphira? _he asked.

_Yes, I would say so, _she replied blearily. An energy hummed deep in her mind, filling her limbs and Eragon could feel her excitement flowing through him like a fast flowing river. _I'll wait for you at the Keep, Murtagh and Thorn have also been summoned._

_For what exactly?_

_I assume it is for battle plans of some kind. The Varden have been restless over the past hour and a half, the soldiers of the Empire have been rallied and will be awaiting orders soon. _Eragon grimaced and his footsteps faltered slightly. _Little one, what is it?_

_It's the prospect of talking to such a large crowd, _he replied.

_Is that old fear still with you? _Saphira taunted. Eragon felt heat rising up his neck and he picked up his speed. He came to the end of the corridor and turned right towards a courtyard; a fountain was playing softly in the background. He ignored this. Two guards stood at heavy oaken doors and opened them up as Eragon approached. He ignored them as well, intent only on getting to the Keep.

It wasn't far away, only a few hundred metres away from his quarters, but a path wasn't entirely clear for the streets were crowded. Patrols of soldiers passed through the streets, headed towards the gates, citizens ran through the area with belongings, children and valuables clutched in their arms; the whole city was ablaze with light and noise. Eragon's path was cleared by people and they lowered their heads as he passed, some flinched and others murmured. Again, they went ignored by him. Eragon passed the cathedral and saw the Keep up ahead and his pace increased.

_Saphira. _A stir of movement caught his eye and he saw her coming around the edge of the Keep. She was waiting for him when he got there.

_Come, they're waiting, _she said.

**"I **HEAR YOU," Eragon murmured. His head was bowed and he felt slightly apprehensive.

"And you, Murtagh?"

"Yes, my lord."

Eragon looked up to face the scrying mirror and the man within the elaborately decorated frame. He quickly lowered his gaze again.

"Well then, I expect you to pass on my orders to the soldiers outside and for you to be off. Now go and I want this battle to swing in my direction, or so help me you and your dragons will both pay the price." The threat hung in the air. Galbatorix slashed through the connection and his image vanished from the mirror's surface. There was silence in the room and Eragon got to his feet, turning around to face a window out of which he could see the cathedral's towering spire and behind that, Helgrind. Beyond the city walls, he could see the camp of the Varden.

"Eragon." He turned around to see Murtagh behind him, eying him up and down. "Are you ready?"

"I just want to get this over with." He stepped forwards onto a balcony so he looked down on the mass of assembled soldiers. Murtagh was beside him and Eragon put a hand to his throat. "Atra vel heyrir eka," he said. Taking his hand away from his neck, Eragon cleared his throat. His voice resonated throughout the city and the soldiers fell silent, gazing up towards him and Murtagh. Eragon squirmed slightly as fifty-thousand pairs of eyes fixed on his being.

_Eragon, it will be fine, just get it over with if you hate it so much, _Saphira said in a warm tone. Her encouragement spurred Eragon into giving the orders which Galbatorix has issued to him and Murtagh.

"Soldiers of the Empire!" he began, sweeping his eyes over the assembled army. "On behalf of Galbatorix, I am to tell you this: Defend this city with your lives, as if it is your family and children who reside in its walls. The King is not forgiving, as you all know, and he will punish any survivors as deemed necessary if this city should fall. Weight has been put on your shoulders, yes, but your fighting should not drop. If this city falls, something worse than death awaits you, no matter what promises, enchantments and such you think are protecting you.

"Do not make yourselves comfortable by stealing from these people, and for dishonouring your duty as soldiers of King Galbatorix's Empire. Your families will not be spared from his wrath if this city should fall. Defend it with your life."

Silence pressed in from all around and Eragon turned away, releasing the spell from his larynx at the same time so his voice was reduced to its normal volume. And then a cheering began, deafening to his ears as the soldiers screamed at him. There was no definable words, just a huge cheer.

_The King is not forgiving, _was his reply to Saphira's answering question, ignoring the titanic noise outside.

_I know, but it harsh, don't you think?_

_Life is harsh, _he snapped. Saphira gave a slight snarl. _I need to get my armour on. _Eragon walked back inside and he looked at no one, troubled thoughts on his mind. _Saphira, I'm sorry for snapping at you, _he said.

_Thank you,_ she said, humming at the same time. Eragon retreated down the winding staircase, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He could hear the muffled sound of the city outside of the stone walls and the still cheering soldiers, but it didn't help with all the thoughts whirling around his head. He was troubled for two reasons: the first was his behaviour with Saphira. He had been treating her unfairly for some time now and he felt bad about it, she had complained or said anything to him, but he could feel her frustration with him through the bond they shared. The second reason was the battle; it wasn't the prospect of slaughtering people he had once called friends – he had been shown how wrong he was by Galbatorix – it was the prospect of facing the green Rider, Arya. He had fought dragons before, and enemy Riders, such as Murtagh. But it was because of whatever he told Saphira, he still harboured some affection for her. It wasn't like fighting Murtagh when they had been on opposite sides, for he had not known who his enemy was the first time. But with Arya…that was a different story.

Eragon shook his head and blinked.

_No. _With some difficulty, he crushed those thoughts and continued onwards. The sound of a deep horn resounded across the city. Eragon stopped on the stairwell to listen to the bass note as it faded into silence. Once again it sounded, and then again. Eragon squared his shoulders and continued down the stairs.

* * *

**NASUADA** LOOKED UP from her writing at the sound of a booming voice in the distance. She lay down her stylus and stood up from her desk.

_"Soldiers of the Empire!" _Nasuada blinked and started to feel slightly weak at the knees. Her armour rattled.

It couldn't be….

_"On behalf of Galbatorix…" _

"No," she whispered.

_"…and he will punish any survivors as deemed necessary if this city should fall."_

The whole camp had gone silent, even the animals had seemed to cease their ever present noise. Nasuada gripped the edge of her desk and walked around the wooden table top.

_"If this city falls, something worse than death awaits you, no matter what promises, enchantments and such you think are protecting you."_

Her heart was pounding now. Nasuada's head was whirling as well so she felt slightly nauseous. That couldn't be the same person as she had once known, who had considered her a friend and an ally.

"No," she said once as if she could summon Eragon here with Saphira and reshape the world with a single word.

_"Your families will not be spared from his wrath…"_

Nasuada looked down at her hand as she felt something wet fall onto it. Lifting it, she watched a single tears roll down her finger and cling to the nail, before falling into the dust at her feet. She swallowed, clenching her fist. This was war, and this was what happened in war. But it wasn't any easier to face reality. And then she heard the soldiers shouting from inside the city, a single voice resonating through the air and reaching her ears. Thousands of soldiers.

"It's not easy, isn't it?" Nasuada turned around to find a beautiful women standing at the entrance flap. She had raven black hair which spilled over golden armour with a cape of swan feathers flowing out behind her. Her slanted eyes scrutinized Nasuada up and down and her stare was icy cold.

"No," Nasuada sighed, walking around the desk and folding her arms. She looked back towards Islanzadí and motioned towards a folding chair. "Come and sit." The Queen of the Elves took the chair and sat on its edge, tilting her sword so it wouldn't get caught on the chair. Nasuada sat behind her desk, interlocking her fingers and trying her best to look diplomatic. "You said you wanted to talk to me earlier today."

"That I did, I wish to ask a request of you: I want my daughter and her dragon to be under my command in this battle." Islanzadí didn't beat about the bush, but was straight forward with her request. Nasuada sat up straighter, placing her shoulders against the back of her chair.

"I must say this though, Your Majesty. Your warriors are much more gifted than the Varden. Think about this: we need as much support as we can."

"Which is why we are here," Islanzadí cut in. "We are not on separate sides in this war."

"But our battalions will not mix. Your Majesty. The Varden need every little boost we can get in this war, and Arya and Rámir staying under my command helps to achieve this. I have commanded a Rider and his dragon before; I have some experience if what you are suggesting is that I can't command them effectively."

"Well, look what has happened," Islanzadí shot back at Nasuada. The Varden Leader's lips tightened.

"And do you think I had any control of how powerful Murtagh and Thorn were at that time? Do you think I could…grow wings and fly up to help?" Nasuada fumed.

"I did not give up my best spell casters for no reason at all," Islanzadí said in a strained voice. Her eyes remained cold as did her face which was spell which was blindingly beautiful. Nasuada swallowed. "And if I have my daughter and Rámir under my command, I can still help your troops. Let her be among her own people."

"I do not know," Nasuada said suddenly, gripping the arms of her chair, "if you make this decision as a military commander or as a mother."

"I make it as both," Islanzadí cut in, waving a hand in the air. "I know she is powerful, I know she can look after herself and her dragon likewise, but I am afraid of losing them, either to a blade or to that mad King. And I do not trust the race of men. You have weak hearts, no matter how strong your desires. Power lures you all. Why do you think we are both sitting here in a command tent on the very tide of war?"

"I cannot change what has happened," Nasuada whispered.

"And neither can I," Islanzadí cut in. "I believe I can help win this fight of ours and snatch back the blue Rider.

"And then I presume," Nasuada said with some restraint, "that when we get Eragon and Saphira back, you will want them to be under your command."

"Naturally," Islanzadí said. Her voice was deadly serious.

"Eragon has sworn his services to me," Nasuada said suddenly.

"Do you really think that it will all be back to the way it was after the battle?" Islanzadí demanded of Nasuada, her blue eyes filled with fury. "If he had been under my command in the first place, none of this would have happened! He would still be free! Eragon will not be the same; it will not revert back to normal so you can be happy."

"I am not expecting to be that way," Nasuada said coolly, standing up behind her desk, "but I am fairly certain he is happy enough to be under my command, probably he even prefers it to yours."

Islanzadí scowled and Nasuada automatically sat down in her seat.

"But how can you be sure it hasn't changed now?" Islanzadí whispered. "He is more of an elf than a human now; even the most dim-witted mind can see that."

"But that doesn't count for anything," Nasuada said forcefully. "Eragon has family in the Varden; I don't think he will be willing to leave them behind to join you." There was a sharp clacking sound as Nasuada started to tap her fingernails on the arms of her chair which filled the tent. Islanzadí ignored the sound, fixing Nasuada with her icy blue gaze.

"And Arya is my family, you are keeping me away from her," Islanzadí said softly. Nasuada had been cornered, she knew that and she wondered belatedly if the Elven Queen had lead her on that roundabout conversation just so she could get a firm enough argument to use against her.

"But that means in turn that Eragon will not be taken away from my command," Nasuada said.

"Maybe we should be asking him what he thinks. Eragon is not a puppet and we will not be pulling the strings where it is not necessary," Islanzadí said.

"And it is the same with Arya," Nasuada hissed. The Queen stood up and she fixed Nasuada in her icy glare from her vantage point.

"Nasuada, I said at the beginning of this meeting that I had a request to make of you," Islanzadí said quietly, "I was mistaken; it was a demand. Arya and Rámir will be moved to my command from now on."

On that last note, Islanzadí turned on her heel and marched towards the tent flap, pushing it aside to reveal the outside world.

"You have troops to command as do I. I suggest that you get to your position now, for the battle will start tonight. Send Arya over to me with Rámir." Nasuada stood behind her desk, gazing down at her hands as she heard the Elven Queen leave her company.

"Farica," Nasuada called. The handmaiden came towards her and gave a small curtsy.

"Milady," she said, fixing her eyes on Nasuada.

"Bring me a groom with my stallion," she said in a voice that shook slightly.

"Are you alright?" Farica asked slowly.

"I am fine, and I have given you an order which I expect to be carried out," Nasuada said. Farica left quickly in a swish of skirts.

* * *

OMFG, look at all the OOC cat fighting~


	52. Chapter 52 -- A Meeting of Two Lovers

52

**A Meeting of Two Lovers**

_"…And I will stand a fight, you know I will…" _

**_– Jake Sully: Avatar_**

Rámir flexed his claws and they crunched in the gravel. Arya could feel his excitement, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It had come as her surprise to her when Nasuada had come towards her with an almost sorrowful expression. She had taken a deep breath and said, "Queen Islanzadí is waiting for you with the elven army. You should go."

"Why? What has happened between you?" Arya had asked.

"The Queen has asked for your services and expects you and Rámir at the front of the elven army with her," Nasuada said in a bitter tone. Arya had bowed and turned to Rámir.

_Come, my dragon, _she had said. Now they stood by Islanzadí's side, Arya on Rámir's back and her hair tied back by a leather band. She wore a basic chainmail shirt with greaves, bracers and a belt around her waist to hold her sword and stop the chainmail from swinging. Her sword was in its sheath and she wore a quiver on her back fitted with arrows and a bow nestled beside them, strung and ready for use.

Arya tightened the knots holding her legs in place, double checking the ties and generally waiting for Nasuada and Islanzadí to give the command. Dras-Leona lay quiet, as if waiting, beckoning the Varden to storm the city's walls.

A horn sounded, and an answering horn from behind Arya rang forth. Rámir tensed his muscles.

"Arya, my daughter," Islanzadí said suddenly, "know that whatever happens, I will love you forever and that I am proud to call you my daughter. Now go!" As Rámir took to the wing, there were shouts in the ancient language as the elves horses were spurred into action, as were the Varden's horses, racing down the embankment with war cries on their lips.

_Let us wreck some havoc! _Rámir cried, issuing a roar from deep within his gut. He was quivering with excitement as Arya took her bow from her back, fitting an arrow onto the string.

_Rámir, be careful. Know that there are two enemy dragons in the skies tonight with unforgiving Riders astride them. _

_They will not kill us, we can turn that to our advantage, _Rámir put in.

_Aye, you are right there, but we should still keep up our guard, be careful._

Smoke rose from the dragon's nostrils.

_I appreciate your concern, but I am not a hatchling that needs pruning every five minutes, _he said.

_I know that, I say such thing for I fear that I will lose you, _said Arya in a flat but gentle voice.

_You are both right. _The ancient voice rumbled through Arya's mind and she nodded. _Even though the Empire will not kill you on Galbatorix's wishes; you should not waltz through the battlefield as if you had not a care in the world. Defend yourselves and each other as if you truly are defending your lives. Rámir, you and Arya share your minds now, and that means you will have to put up with all of her pruning. Such is the bond between a Rider and dragon. Don't scorn the gift you have been given._

_Thank you, master, and we won't, _Arya said.

_I will be here also to lend you my strength if necessary, _said Glaedr. _Fight well, the both of you, and may the wind turn in your favour._

Arya drew her arm back and aimed, loosing the arrow so the bolt thudded downwards into the enemy. She did not pause to see if her arrow had hit the target. The thunder of hooves sounded below along with the screams of men and dying animals, the hissing of arrows, the twangs of bows and the creaking wood of siege engines which were situated in the back lines. Stones thudded into the walls. Arya could see in the half light of the breaking dawn the Varden's battering ram, fighting its way to the front of the crowd so reaching the gate. Men fell with arrows in their chests.

Arya turned away from the carnage below. _Rámir, we can't do as much in the air as I would like, so we should help by picking off some of the archers on the gates._

_Or fight Saphira or the red runtling who calls himself a dragon, _Rámir said. _Providing that they appear, _he said as an afterthought.

_They will, don't you worry about that, _Arya said in a heavy voice. Something caught her eye down below and with her vision, she could see her kinsmen below, arrows flying faster than a human could perceive, killing the enemy with every shot. From her vantage point, Arya could see into the city, she could see the orders being issued; she could see the vats, their boiling contents pouring steam everywhere.

_Is that—?_

_Oil, _Arya said and her heart skipped a beat when she saw where it was aimed: where her mother stood. Arya knew that countless wards were protecting the Queen; she knew that the spellcasters would give their lives to defend her, but Arya acted instinctively. _Rámir! Get down there!_

He obliged by tucking in his wings and hurtling towards the ground at breakneck speeds, a roar coming forth from his throat. Islanzadí looked up and saw the dragon diving towards her, saw the mouth opening and she saw the giant tongue of flame leap forth, green and white fire flicking in Rámir's throat.

The men screamed as the fire enveloped them, setting the oil alight and Rámir landed on the wall, placing his front feet on the pot and, grunting with the effort, tipping the contents over the wall, splashing the burning liquid over the soldiers below, barring the gate. Their dying screams reached Arya's ears. Rámir roared in triumph, taking to the skies once more and growling as stray arrows bounced off his belly, most of them deflected by Arya's wards.

_Arya, what in the name were you doing? _Islanzadí's voice was full of anger.

_It was instinctual, _Arya replied. She was elated at Rámir's act, delighted with him.

_I can see that, and I can see that was Rámir's first time breathing fire, _she said.

_Yes, and he has killed about a dozen men with the flames, plus more when he tipped the oil over the side of the wall, _said Arya, pride in her voice.

_Good; now stay in the air and obey my commands, _Islanzadí instructed.

Rámir was shuddering with delight and Arya could feel his emotions, his pride and elation racing across their bond. _Arya! I breathed fire! _he exclaimed with delight.

Arya drew another of her arrows. _Then let us help in the fight. Mother?_

_Yes, deliver chaos amongst their ranks, _she said.

Rámir dived, snapping his wings out over the houses and releasing another jet of emerald fire, searing the soldiers and many of the houses as he passed over. Soldier shouted with fright and pain as he zoomed over, seeping the very essence of death, shivering with delight. While Rámir bathed the soldiers with jets of emerald flames, Arya picked them off with arrows and the occasional burst of magic, nimbus green and as bright as the sun. But even with all the deaths of the Empire's soldiers, more stepped over the dead bodies, for every soldier they felled, another one took his place.

_Rámir, fly upwards! _Arya commanded.

He grunted in reply and bounded into the sky, snapping his wings out on either side.

_Arya, can you and Rámir topple the Empire's siege engines? _Islanzadí said. _It is Nasuada's wish, and it would be helpful for our own people._

_Yes, _Rámir replied, tipping onto his side and flapping towards the seven trebuchets lining the wall. Rámir drew in his breath, releasing a fireball which soared towards the furthest away on the right hand side. It exploded on contact, raining fire and wooden shrapnel everywhere. Dying screams were heard and a cheer from the Varden below. Rámir repeated the action twice more, felling two more of the engines before Arya heard the beating of war drums, and then a drawn out horn, echoing across the city.

Arya's stomach dropped. _Quickly! _Arya shouted.

Rámir sensed her agitation and set alight the four others before swinging around. A roar echoed across the city, but it did not come from Rámir. Arya drew her sword, the shining steel catching the evening light. Her eyes fixed on the Keep and she saw a huge shadow dominating the top of the building. It launched itself off the roof and came towards her and Rámir, releasing a roar and a jet of blood red fire.

Arya's grip tightened. _Rámir, get us far above the city._

Rámir flew upwards, flapping to get away from the oncoming Thorn, getting over the cloud cover and balancing on his wings, looking downwards, waiting for his opponent.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. Arya shifted her weight on the saddle, looking around her, flinching as a wisp of cloud caught her eye. She frowned, expecting an attack any second, but the only sound was Rámir's wings, pounded up and down on each side.

_Where are they? _Rámir hissed.

_I was wondering just that unless…. _Something had caught her attention, the sound of a rushing wind, the rushing of membrane. Arya looked around, glanced up overhead and screamed, _Dive! _

Too late.

Rámir tumbled through the air as the shape smashed into his side, making Arya lurch in the saddle, cutting her forehead on her sword so the blade bore drops of her scarlet blood. Rámir tried to fight the larger dragon off him, using the thumbs on his wings to score gashes along the dragon's side. It hissed in pain. It tossed Rámir away and the green dragon flared his wings to halt their fall towards the ground. Arya brushed hair and blood out of her eyes and saw their attacker.

Saphira had grown a lot since Arya had last seen her close up, several feet longer at least, her eyes were pools of fire and flames darted out of her jaws and nostrils. Gone was her kindness to be replaced by the ferocity which she now possessed. Gone was her gentle nature and her kind voice, to be replaced by feral snarls; and gone was the Saphira that Arya had known, she was instead replaced by a dragon which was ferocious and animalistic. She was snarling, her upper lip curled to reveal her glittering teeth and her eyes were full of hate.

But Eragon…. He had not escaped unchanged. He had a helmet covering his head, made of shining steel and armour to match it. Brisingr lay in his grip, and even the sword seemed changed, wielded by a man she did not know. He sat straight in the saddle, scrutinising her, and then he reached up and took off his helmet. As on the hill, Eragon did not gaze at her with the kind, almost puppy dog like expression he had worn months previously. Again, Arya noticed his hair was slightly shaggier and longer than before, the scar lining his eyebrow and the hard cold eyes. Arya could not tell, but she though she saw a slightly dazed look in them. She prayed she had.

"Eragon," she said. "What—?"

"Be silent," he growled, pointed Brisingr at her.

Arya scowled and did not close her mouth. "How could you do this? How could you turn your back on your friends and family? How could you have let Galbatorix get to you?"

"I had no choice in the matter, neither of us did," he snarled. "What would you have done in my position? I had not only had myself to worry about, but I also had Saphira to consider as well. She was all I had in Urû'baen and I did my best to try and protect her."

"If you mean by becoming the way you are now—"

"Tell me, Arya Dröttningu, what would you have done for your dragon? What would you have done for his well being?"

Arya was silent, gazing at Eragon across the void as he waited for a reply.

"I did the best I could in the situation," he began, looking down at Brisingr, refusing to meet her eye. "It was the only path open to me."

"You could have done better," Arya cried.

"Do you think so?" Eragon asked in a low voice. "Then why don't you try it? I know you will, for Murtagh and I will not leave until you are under our command, bound with rope and spells so we can bring you before the King. Our orders were set months ago, and so I must carry them out." His gaze snapped back to her and he shrugged. "I know we are stronger than you, we may as well get it over with." Eragon placed his helm back on his head, brandishing Brisingr.

Saphira lunged forwards, roaring at Rámir. Arya gripped Rámir's spike as he too started forwards. Arya leaned towards his neck as the blue and green dragons closed the gap between them.

They collided and Arya was thrown forwards. Saphira roared as she tore at Rámir, buffeting the smaller dragon with her wings and slashing at him with her claws. Arya clung to Rámir's back, desperately holding onto her sword and onto the spike in front of her. Eragon swung at Rámir with Brisingr whenever he had the chance to, normally at his wings and his eyes through the helm were full of fury, fury directed towards her and Rámir.

Rámir flapped his wings twice, fast and both times, Eragon swung Brisingr and opened up gashes in Rámir's wings, causing Arya to wince and Rámir to hiss in pain. Rámir snarled as Saphira twisted him around in her grip, bringing the green dragon to her chest and using her back legs to pin down his wings and they began to plummet to the ground at breakneck speeds. Arya had the opportunity to exchange blows with Eragon, Brisingr sparking against her own blade. Eragon's mind extended towards her own. She threw up her own barriers and doubled over in the saddle, amazed at the strength that Eragon had amassed since his capture five months ago.

There were tears in Arya's eyes as she fought Eragon but all she could see of him were his eyes, and the uncharacteristic fire burning in them. Her barriers wavered slightly as Rámir twisted underneath her and Eragon blasted his consciousness at hers. Arya hastily repaired her barriers which were made from the memories of her and Eragon together; when they were rafting along the Az Ragni on the way the Herdath, how they held the other in their arms after Arya had slain Varaug and she had learnt of Oromis and Glaedr's death, when they he sat together around the campfire, and when she had made the grass ship and when they had attacked the soldiers that morning.

How Saphira had swooped down during the Battle at Feinster and saved her and Blödhgarm, her curiosity at his new sword. The sorrow and loneliness she had felt after his capture, the constant ache in her gut, the knot of worry. The placing of the lilies into the Jiet River, watching the two flowers drifting off into the mist and how she stood on the shores on the river, her hands under her cloak and the hood collapsed around her neck, her hair flying around her face in the breeze that came in from the sea.

_"Please come back, Eragon, Saphira," _she had said to the now out of sight lilies, each one symbolising the Rider and the dragon now in the black capital of the Dark King. Eragon's eyes flashed in remembrance of those times, the probes faltering for a second, but then he shook off the fantasy and renewed his attack on Arya's mind and striking out with his sword at the same time.

_Arya! _Rámir cried. _They plan to drive us to the ground; Saphira is too big for me to throw off! I can't escape her grip!_

Arya thought back on tactics and her mind rested on the one that Saphira had used so long ago to escape Thorn's grasp: _Fire, _Arya said simply. _Breathe fire at Saphira. Be quick!_

Rámir didn't hesitate and drew forth the fire from his belly and opened his jaws, releasing the bright green inferno. Saphira's grip slackened. Rámir freed his left wing. He bit Saphira's right leg and she roared in pain. Rámir managed to snap his wings out straight and dove through the cloud cover, then looped back on top of Saphira as she went after the smaller dragon. Rámir drew in his left wing and tipped downwards towards Saphira, flaring his wings at the last second and landing on her with his full weight. He clawed and snapped at her, driving them both downwards with the force of his impact. Saphira rolled over in the air so Rámir was on her belly and she brought her tail around so she hit Rámir on the back. He buckled slightly at the force of the blow. He dug his claws into Saphira's chest to avoid being shaken off.

Saphira hissed and swiped at the green dragon, leaving long claw marks on his chest and he and Arya roared and yelled in pain. Saphira then rolled over and shook herself, making Rámir lose his grip and Saphira brought her tail around for another strike and it connected with Rámir's wing. Both he and his Rider screamed in shared pain and Rámir plummeted with Saphira close on his tail, opening her jaws to reveal bright sapphire blue fire flickering in her throat. Eragon brandished Brisingr on her back, palm raised and Rámir snapped open his wings and dove to the left. Saphira snapped at him and missed and she swung her head around, looking for where the smaller, younger dragon had gone. Rámir turned around one hundred and eighty degrees and resumed combat, buffeting, clawing and swiping at Saphira who responded with equal force, her eyes full of malice and anger.

Arya could hear Rámir's strained breathing; his wing was paining him greatly, spikes of pain racing up and down the shoulder and arm every time he flapped.

_You can't fight like this! _Arya cried out. _Land, I'd do anything to help you, I can't heal you now. _

Rámir didn't hesitate; he tucked his wings into his sides and dove towards the city. The Varden had managed to breech the gate and they poured into the city, fighting the oncoming waves of the Empire. Soon they were fighting on a carpet of bodies. Rámir angled towards the cathedral where he had the most space since the Varden had not fought their way over to the area yet. He landed, his wing drooping and he trembled. Arya vaulted off him, running under his leg to see the four lines raking his chest. His blood dripped onto the flagstones beneath him, collecting in the cracks. Arya drew on Glaedr's strength and whispered the healing spell. Her strength did not wane, but the gashes closed up as new skin and scales covered the area, leaving no mar or scar. Arya then hastily made her way over to Rámir's wing and ran her hands along it. The skin was broken in several places, but Arya could see and feel with her fingers and with her mind that none of the bones underneath were broken. The spikes on Saphira's tail had pierced his hide and the sheer force of the blow had bruised the muscles. Arya healed them and stood up straight.

A great beating of wings came to her ears and she ducked as Saphira soared overhead, landing on the opposite side of the square, limping and hissing as the wounds in her chest sapped her strength. Eragon climbed off of her back, walked around her and placed his hands against her wounds gently. Arya saw him mutter something, and then a faint light issued from his hands. The holes closed and Saphira straightened her neck. Eragon turned around, taking his helmet off once more and throwing it to the ground. It clattered on the stone. He brandished Brisingr, walked forwards with it pointed towards Arya. She readied her own blade and tried to calm her beating heart.


	53. Chapter 53 -- Her Hurt

53

**Her Hurt**

_This heart was hurt by the light and__  
I see your world that tries to deny us  
Now everything that I love has died or has been shattered to pieces  
It's always the same, they fear no way out  
I cannot break it  
I can take it no more _

**_– Blue Eyes: Within Temptation_**

Arya dreaded the moment when they would meet in the heat of battle. As Eragon closed in on her, Saphira and Rámir began to circle eachother, their wings half raise and teeth bared threateningly.

Eragon halted a few feet away; his eyes were cold and lifeless. "I will give you this one chance to give up, to put down your blade and to step away from it, to surrender."

"Over my dead body," Arya hissed, her grip tightening so her knuckles were white against the handle.

Eragon chuckled, flexing his own grip on Brisingr's blade, the armoured plates covering his fingers grating against each other. "So be it then. I was going to show you mercy, Arya, but it seems that you won't be giving up as easily as I had hoped."

"And what would make you think that Rámir and I would come with you to the capital with not a single blow exchanged?" snapped Arya.

"A man can hope, can he not?"

"Then be the man I know you to be."

"That _Eragon,"_ he said, putting a lot of stress on his name, "was a fool, to be blinded and corrupted by the elves, to take in their lies about the King. You should hear what he has planned for the rest of Alagaësia; it is not all blood and violence, you know."

"That's not what you said earlier," Arya howled, throwing herself at Eragon and raising her sword up high.

He took a step forwards and raised Brisingr in a block. The swords collided edge on edge in a steely squeal that hurt Arya's ears slightly. Throwing her strength into pushing Eragon back, she succeeded and spun her sword around her, looking for a purchase in Eragon's defence but found none.

Arya cut and slashed at Eragon, but his fighting had improved since he had been brought to Urû'baen; it was more fluid and graceful; he was using his speed and strength to the greater advantage than he had before and Arya had to use all of her skill to beat him back. It wasn't making it easier that her eyes were filled with tears all the while, blurring her vision, so she let them stream down her face.

"How can you say that the King will bring visions of wonder and glory to this land?" Arya cried, retreating a few paces to regather her strength. "You know the truth, you know what he did to gain power, that his ambitions are guided by his own passions and he rules through brute force and strength of will, an iron fist which has not relinquished its hold for a century."

"Because they did not see events through his eyes," Eragon growled, taking a step towards her.

Arya stepped back.

"They do not know his pain."

Eragon came further forwards and Arya retreated once more.

"They do not understand his loss; they do not understand what it is like to lose someone who held them dear."

Arya stumbled back on the bottom most step leading up the doors of the cathedral. She climbed up them and Eragon continued his advance.

"They do not understand that the King is not trying to harm them, but is only doing what he does because of love. It is a powerful thing, Arya, something which can change the fate of worlds, change lives, change decisions and lead us to do terrible and wonderful things. You should know what it would be like for him."

"I will not show him any sympathy!" Arya screamed. "He is a demon from hell, and you are becoming like him, almost unconsciously. You have played into his trap."

"Trap?" Eragon laughed. "He led me towards the light, the truth, Arya, and I plan to help you see that truth as well."

Arya changed tactics. "Please listen," Arya begged. "What has Galbatorix done to you? He's been in your head and confused you. I can help you, Rámir can help, the elves can help, and the Varden can help. Can't you hear yourself?"

"Of course I can hear myself," he growled, "and why would you want to help me? You hurt me! You made me so angry with the world! You refused me and I have ignored the hate inside me, but now, now it comes on a tidal wave, crashing into the shores again and again. No voice can calm such a rage and Galbatorix has promised me revenge if I give you and your dragon to him. Only Saphira cares for me! No one wants me! And you ask me to place mine and Saphira lives in your hands? Ha! I am not an idiot; I won't make a second mistake to trust you."

"How could you have listened to him?" Arya cried. "Look at what he has done!"

"What have you done?" Eragon growled, pointing Brisingr at her. "With what's happened to me, especially to Saphira—" His words choked and his sword trembled. His eyes hardened once more and he lifted Brisingr in a ready position in front of him. "I will have my vengeance soon, as my King has promised me if I bring you and your dragon to him. And then we can live together, happy and away from everything when the Varden have been brought to justice and Nasuada killed for her crimes against the crown."

"You're twisted, you're not the Eragon I knew," Arya said in a low voice, springing forward with a cry, sword raised above her head.

Eragon ducked and twisted around, passing by her side so she landed in front of him so he was now facing her back. Arya could hear Brisingr's blade humming through the air and she brought her sword behind her back to block the blow. The metal collided with a steely grate once more. Arya brought her sword back up over her head, forcing Brisingr to follow through as well, but Eragon jumped so he sailed over her head in a tight roll, pivoting on the balls of his toes when he hit the ground, bringing Brisingr low so the sapphire blade was in line with his knees, forcing Arya to leap over the blade so she wouldn't get seriously injured and unable to continue. As Arya jumped, Eragon spun around fast, balancing on his left hand and pushing himself off the ground so he now stood on his feet. Swinging Brisingr in fast motions, he engaged Arya and she was forced on the defence.

They exchanged blows at inhuman speed on the cathedral steps, the green and blue dragons roaring and fighting in the background whist the red one was nowhere to be seen at this minute. Arya slashed at Eragon sideways, but he caught her sword with his own so they were locked together. Arya placed her other hand on the handle of her sword as her arm began to tremble, Eragon did likewise a few seconds later.

Eragon pushed her back and she stumbled. He then jabbed at her and she barely managed to avoid the glittering blue blade. Arya retaliated and began a series of fast attacks, flowing from one form to another as graceful as a river yet as strong as an oak. But every time Arya struck out at Eragon, a blade was there to meet hers. She was frustrated and yelled, running towards him with her sword held high. Eragon lifted his blade to intercept hers and the metal created sparks as the blades collided once more, locked the swords once more in an 'X'. Arya strained against Eragon's strength and she bared her teeth, her sword arm began to tremble and the blade arced, _bending. _It had never done that before. Arya applied more strength at her sword gave in, snapping in half. The green Rider now held an eight inch spike of metal; useless. But she still had magic at her command. She raised her right palm and opened her mouth.

Suddenly, before she had the time to utter a single syllable, pain exploded across her side and she screamed. Her body was unblemished but Rámir's roar drowned out everything else. He fell to the ground with a thud, his side painted scarlet.

_Rámir! _Arya screamed.

_Arya, _Rámir said in a groggy voice. _Beware…Eragon. _

She looked around, but it was too late. Eragon towered over her, Brisingr inches from her throat. Arya gulped.

"Get up," Eragon commanded. Arya stood on shaking legs and lifted her chin. "Don't try magic, for your dragon is at Saphira's mercy. Strike at me and he will die."

"How can you be so cruel?" Arya whispered. "The Eragon I knew was compassionate, kind and warm; but now, now you are a shell of his former self." Eragon snarled and brought Brisingr perilously close to the vein pounding in Arya's throat.

"I am who I am, nothing can change that," he spat. "He knows my true name, and for months, Arya, _months _he has tortured both parts of me, not allowing me a minutes peace, always keeping watch over me, making sure that I don't do what he doesn't want." Desperation to understand was behind his words, begging her to understand the position he was in now. "I have had no choice, no say in the thing. I am trapped forever."

"Remember what you told Murtagh and Thorn, about changing your true name," Arya whispered.

"No," Eragon snarled once more. "I have tried before, and I have been punished." His hand drifted to above his eye and the thin line that was now present there. But he dropped it quickly and the grip on Brisingr's hilt tightened. "It would take a miracle to free me and Saphira, so I have pushed that away and taken my position since I cannot escape it."

"The Eragon I knew once," Arya said, "would never have given up at such a task." An idea was dawning, born from the monologue that Eragon had delivered before.

_"…It is a powerful thing, Arya, something which can change the fate of worlds, change lives, change decisions and lead us to do terrible and wonderful things…" _It was if he was trying to give her a hint, a message almost. Arya was going to cling to that one hope.

"People can change."

"That is true, so why cannot you change your true name?"

"Then what would we do?" he demanded. "Galbatorix would only snatch our freedom back from us as soon as we had gained it. Saphira and I have gone through unspeakable horrors together, and it was only because we were together that we can still form words and walk this earth. If you only knew, then I think you would be more insightful of the position we are now in. We either let you go and do the right thing, return to Urû'baen and go through more pain, or take you and your dragon back, be rewarded and left alone for a while. I would choose the latter."

"But you don't have to choose out of that," Arya said. "We can help you."

"I said much the same to Murtagh on the Burning Plains," Eragon said quietly, "and he refused. Now I know why. It would take a miracle to help me, Galbatorix would fight tooth and nail to get the two of us back under his command, only because of Saphira and—" He broke off again and looked away. "I won't speak of it," he whispered finally. There was so much pain in his eyes, so much.

"I can help," Arya said.

"You can help me by coming back to Urû'baen with me and Saphira," he said.

"I can help you here, now," Arya whispered.

"You lie," Eragon said. "You give us a false hope."

"No," Arya whispered and she took a small step forwards. Eragon didn't move Brisingr closer. A faint glimmer of hope shone in his eyes, but it was minimal.

"Only hate exists in the world, the only one who cares for me is Saphira, the only one who doesn't see me as something to use is Saphira and she is the only one who sees me as who I am, the only one who can understand," he hissed.

"Others care for you," said Arya.

"That's not true!" Eragon cried.

"Just remember," Arya pressed. "Remember everyone, Roran, Ajihad, Nasuada, Brom, Hrothgar, Orik, and me." Eragon's eyes were swimming with memory and his sword trembled.

"My father, Ajihad and Hrothgar are dead," Eragon said with a finality, "and you don't care for me, you only want me back so I can fight your battles for the Varden, to be a weapon once more, to slaughter because it is expected of me, that is the only reason you say those words."

"I do care for you," cried Arya, "and more to that, I can prove it, here and now."

"Liar," Eragon snarled.

"No," she said in the ancient language, "it is the truth." All of her feelings rushed out of her and her ache, her worry and her loneliness echoed through her. She crossed the distance between them fast and it was Eragon's surprise which kept him at bay. Arya threw her arms around Eragon's neck and whispered in his ear in the tongue of magic, "I love you." She pressed her lips against his.

He tried to pull back at first, but then, he began to relax and kissed her back. In the middle of this bloodshed, the misery and sorrow, something to be happy about came through. Brisingr clattered to the ground as Eragon dropped it and his breathing calmed slightly. And then, all of a sudden, he buckled.

"Ahh!" he yelled. He stumbled away, his head in his right hand and his eyes were tightly shut. Saphira roared in the background.

"Eragon?" Arya asked slowly, worry in her voice. Eragon swallowed and fixed her with a look, wonder spreading across his face.

"You…the language…" He buckled again, landing on his hands and knees, shuddering as if with cold. "Arya," he choked, tears stinging his eyes, "you…refused me. How?"

"Eragon, what's happening?" Arya asked in a worried voice.

"I don't—" Realisation came across his face. "Free," he whispered hoarsely and a small laugh escaped him. Dread crossed his face then and he grimaced once more. "Arya, h-he wants me…back."

"Eragon, I can help."

"Stay back," he whispered. "I…don't know what…side I'm on at the moment. I feel…free." His gaze was slightly glassy and he sounded a little uncertain, but then he grimaced, groaning on the ground. "Arya…I'm sorry...for what I did. Is Saphira?" Arya looked over to see the blue dragon staggering to her feet, coming towards the both of them. Eragon was breathing hard and the muscles in his neck were strained. Eragon got to his knees, and then to his feet almost painfully. "Saphira." She blinked and shook her head slightly, roaring in confusion at the same time. "You need to be strong. I…I have a plan to help the others," he murmured. He looked back towards Arya and Rámir. "I need the help of the both of you."

* * *

**HE **FELT LIGHTER than he had in a long time. Something had snapped inside him and Saphira. But that had come at a price. He felt a tugging in his gut, something painful and he longed to give into the pain, but that meant going back to Urû'baen…. Eragon would not do that, not to Saphira or himself on any account. Saphira was still struggling; he could see and feel that.

_Please, Saphira, _he said in her mind. She faltered for a second.

_He still has me, _she said in a bitter tone.

_But you're changing, why?_

_My eggs…and the knowledge that you are at ease has lifted from my mind. _She roared once more. _The pain that I feel comes from you._

_And from yourself. _Even now, Eragon could feel both the bonds binding both him and Saphira slackening their grip, throwing away the past months of service that the cruel words had forced them to do.

_From myself as well, _she whispered. She straightened up for a second and crawled over to him. _You said you had a plan of some sorts, a plan for what, pray tell?_

_To help those who deserve their freedom more than us. _Saphira understood in an instant.

_Why do you need Arya and her dragon's help? _she asked.

_A trap let's say, _Eragon said. He stood up and ignoring the pain, hoisted himself onto Saphira's back, gripping the neck spike in front of him.

"Arya," he said, swaying slightly on the saddle, "I have a plan to free Murtagh and Thorn from their service to the King. They of all people deserve freedom." Arya looked troubled for a moment, looking back towards Rámir. Something passed between them and she turned back towards Eragon.

"First swear in the ancient language that you are on our side, swear that you are not acting under Galbatorix's orders."

"I swear it," he said in the ancient language, "and afterwards, Saphira and I will help the best that we can to defeat the Empire."

"Thank you," Arya said in the same tongue. "Now what would you have Rámir and myself do?"

* * *

**_MURTAGH! _**ERAGON SHOUTED with his mind, his mental voice echoing across the link they had forged between their minds.

The reply was short coming.

_Have you succeeded? _Murtagh's voice showed his excitement and Eragon concealed his deeper feelings inside himself.

_I have, come and help me. _Saphira had planted herself on top of Rámir who had closed his eyes, allowing himself to appear to have drifted into unconsciousness, but in truth he was wide awake, his muscles barely containing a tremble of excitement. Eragon held Arya close to him, a small knife held at her throat and he waited patiently as Thorn's silhouette appeared in the skies. He dived down towards them, crashing onto the paving stones beside Eragon. Murtagh jumped off Thorn, coming towards them, his elation on his face,

"The King will be pleased with us."

"Aye, that he will. The dragon will need to be airlifted out of the city," Eragon growled, jabbing the end of his knife in Rámir's direction. "I need Thorn's help there." Murtagh nodded towards Thorn and he started forwards, scenting the blood which laced Rámir's side. He froze. His lip curled into a snarl suddenly and he faced Murtagh.

_Traitors—! _was all the ruby dragon could manage before Saphira had taken her front feet off of Rámir and thrown herself at Thorn. Rámir leapt up from the ground and tackle Thorn as well. If Saphira or Rámir had been acting alone, Thorn might have had a chance of winning the fight,but with the efforts of the two dragons combined, the fight was short lived, ferocious as it was. At the same time, Eragon had released Arya and she had barked a command in the ancient language, a green nimbus of magic erupting from her outstretched palm. Eragon drew Brisingr and Murtagh barely had time to retaliate, Arya's magic shrivelling into nothing as it hit his wards, but Brisingr was more effective here. Eragon had dropped the small knife he had been holding to Arya's throat and she scooped it up, joining Eragon in combat. Murtagh's face transformed into a snarl of rage as he tried to block blows from both of the blade with Zar'roc, the ruby sword flashing in the light of fires spread throughout the city.

"Your bonds—" Murtagh spluttered.

"Are no more," Eragon replied, jabbing Brisingr at his midriff whist Arya swung the knife at his head. Murtagh parried both of them but was too preoccupied with Brisingr to see the fist slam into the side of his head. Murtagh crumpled, unconscious. Arya panted, resting her hands on her knees, looking towards Thorn as he roared and struggled to get to his Rider.

"Slytha," Arya whispered. Thorn shuddered as he descended into a land of dreams. "Now what?" Arya said, gazing at Eragon who grimaced.

"We have them under our command now, and Thorn won't wake until you command it, but with Murtagh…. Take him back to the camp, contact Nasuada and explain the situation," said Eragon

"And what will you do?" Arya asked. Eragon looked around, grimacing once more.

"Saphira and I will do our best to help the Varden." With that said, Eragon walked over to Saphira and pulled himself on to her and she took off, soaring above the city.

_We can trust Arya and Rámir to do what I've asked, _Eragon said.

_I don't doubt that, but we are both weak, the pain will not vanish and even if we can successfully contain Murtagh and Thorn, how are we going to help change their true names? _Eragon drifted off into silence.

_After what has happened tonight, I have an idea, but I will first have to consult Nasuada. But for now, we are at war. _Saphira dived, tipping her centre of gravity and tucking her wings into her sides and racing towards the ground. _We are among the enemies ranks this time, we know where their centres of command are and their magicians, if we can destroy those, the Empire will descend into chaos and the Varden will be able to defeat them. _

Saphira soared low over the fighting crowd which was forcing its way up the confused and scattered streets. Some of the Varden yelled as they saw the two of them coming down towards them. Cries of relief came from the Empire's soldiers.

_Argetlam! Thank the gods you have to help us! _a magician cried in Eragon's mind.

_That we have, we have come to help you to your deaths. _Confusion echoed within the magician's mind, but Saphira opened her jaws and a torrent of fire issued forth, enveloping the soldiers of the Empire who cried out in pain and disbelief. There was silence for a few moments, and then a hoarse cheer came from the Varden.

_Straffon was placed among those soldiers, now to weed out the rest of them, _Saphira hissed.

For the next hour and a half, Eragon and Saphira flew over the raging battle, killing anyone of the Empire they came across and similar confusion reached towards them from the commander's a magician's minds. Wherever Eragon and Saphira struck, the seed of chaos was planted and soon the Empire was a mass of confused soldiers, looking for the orders that would not come. Saphira wobbled in the air as she circled back towards the centre of the city, almost crashing as she touched down. Eragon staggered from his seat, a tug of pain coming from his gut. It didn't help that the pain had been mounting for the past hour and a half and he fell to his knees, knowing now what was causing it. He screamed out loud and braced himself against the ground with his hands.

"I am not your servant!" he shouted, his sight blinded by the pain. "I am not and I never will be again! BEGONE FROM MY MIND, FOR I AM NOT YOUR SERVANT!" After one more gut wrenching round of agony, Eragon collapsed, unconscious on the ground next to Thorn's prone form. Saphira slumped down beside him a second later. He barricaded himself deep within his mind, placing up layers of barriers before him as he slipped into his waking dreams. After what seemed like an eternity, soft, warm blankets enfolded him and a soft singing crept into his brain.

_He saw two birds in a cage, squeaking and shrieking, enraged by the bars which kept them from freedom. A door was open and they flitted out, towards a bright white light on the horizon. One was Eragon, he knew that, and the other was his partner, flying towards their freedom._

* * *

**Narrator**: ... And there was much rejoicing.  
**All**: Yaaaay. *flags come up and wave*


	54. Chapter 54 -- Acceptance

54

**Acceptance**

_Please say my name__  
Remember who I am  
You will find me in the world of yesterday _

**_– Say my Name: Within Temptation_**

A wet cloth was dabbing at his forehead. Eragon rolled over, closing his eyes tighter. There was a pause as he stirred and a soft voice said, "Eragon, wake up. You have been lying here for four days."

"Arya," he murmured, opening his eyes. What he didn't expect was to see calf brown eyes looking back at his own. Her hair was black and it tumbled down her back, but she was not nearly as beautiful as the elf he was expecting. Something clicked in Eragon's mind, a memory about a terrible day and he sat up quickly. He groaned as his head spun and he closed his eyes again. "Where is Arya? And where is Saphira?" She frowned at Arya's name and shimmied closer to him. Eragon backed away. "Why are you here? Didn't you perish at Urû'baen?"

"Of course I didn't," she said in what was clearly meant to be a playful tone, a smile creeping around her mouth. She edged closer to him, her smile flattering as she saw the scowl on his face. "Eragon?"

"Why are you here?" Eragon asked again. She gulped and backed drew back a few inches.

"I—" she said, the words stopping in her mouth.

"Do you realise what you did in the capital?" Eragon asked, biting into each syllable and putting venom behind the words. Her eyes sparkled slightly with unshed tears. Eragon's voice was gaining anger in it and he straightened himself further.

"I knew," she whispered. "I did it so I could be with you, but when I saw the King's wrath, I fled in fear of my life. I knew the only safe sanctuary then was with the Varden, so here I am."

"To escape the King's wrath," Eragon said slowly. He was breathing hard and Monica quailed under his stern tone. "You might have done, but I believe that you have not paid the price for your actions just yet."

Now Monica let the tears fall, splashing down onto flagstones beneath her feet. Flagstones? Where was he? He asked the question.

"Dras-Leona, beneath the cathedral," she answered, relieved that the subject had been changed. Eragon now saw he was under a tent, a canvas roof stretching over his head and his eyes came to rest on glittering blue scales.

"Saphira!" he cried with relief, getting to his feet and stumbling over to her. She stirred and lifted her head, humming with joy as he came over, leaving Monica behind.

_Eragon! Oh, little one! _Saphira said, bending her head towards him and touching him on the arm.

_What's happening? _he asked.

_The city was taken by the Varden and they found you after the battle, and I was watching them as they came over. The pain was still coming from you and I too was weak. But they came and orders were given for care to be given to you, for you were obviously suffering. The Varden thought it would be easier for you to remain with me._

_And they didn't attack you?_

_No, I think they were relieved over all to be honest, but they were startled when they also came across Thorn behind you. _Eragon smiled at the memory and buried himself in Saphira's neck.

_I'm glad that you're safe, _he said. Her humming grew louder in his ears and she placed her jaw along his back, drawing him towards her with a taloned foot in the gesture of an embrace.

_There's still one problem though, _Eragon murmured to her, looking up into her face and she in turn down at him.

_What is it?_

_Arya's actions, _Eragon stated. _How could she though? She refused me at the Agaetí Blödhren, but yet, in the heat of battle, she kisses me and says that she loves me. It leaves me so confused._

_Why don't you ask her what she meant then? _Saphira suggested, looking over his shoulder. Eragon turned around to see her framed in the tent entrance, a small smile on her lips. She was wearing a pale yellow skirt today with a white shirt, her hair loosely braided down her back. She radiated beauty and Eragon smiled, stepping away from Saphira and towards Arya. She in turn came towards him and within a few moments, they stood by each other. Eragon's mouth was dry and he said nothing, he only looked at Arya, drinking in the scent of crushed pine needles which surrounded her, the sunlight streaming in from behind her.

Emotions played out across his face, ones that he had been keeping secret from even himself came to the surface like bubbles in the sea and he was so happy, so full of joy that he was motionless for a few seconds, and then he hugged her, out of nothing else he could say or do. He put as much as he could into that, trying to get her to understand how he felt, to try to get her to feel the emotions rushing through him. Perhaps she understood those things, for her arms were tightly around his own body, and they rocked gently back and forth for a few seconds, happy to be together, happy that they weren't forced to be against one another. The past months of worry and anger drained out of the both of them; for they knew that the other was safe.

A sob broke the stretching silence, one which would have been inaudible to human ears, but Eragon could tell it belonged to the other woman in the tent. He turned around to look at her. Monica's shoulders were slumped in defeat, but her hands were clenched into fists and they in turn were shaking with fury. Eragon couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for her, but then he remembered his time in Urû'baen and instantly his feelings were shut off.

"How could you do this?" she whispered hoarsely, choking on her own sorrow.

"You do not gain your passage to one's heart by coming at them with a knife or betraying them and their friends and allies. Think of what you have done, and then ask me that question again," Eragon said. Saphira growled at Monica, but she was ignored by the woman who could only stand there, letting the tears cascade down her face.

_How I itch to sink my fangs and claws into her, _she commented. _I am hungry, for I have not left this confounded shelter since it was erected, I was too worried for you well being, and if someone would come in and do who knows what to you._

_I can take care of myself, _Eragon protested.

_Ah, but were so very deep in your slumber I doubt that a thousand drums crashing outside wouldn't have woken you, _said Saphira.

_What did happen exactly? _Eragon asked.

_Terrible things, I could barely reach you myself. You mind was sealed off and you burned with fever, the stupid, pointless things._

_Monica said I had been lying there for four days, is that true?_

_Four and a half to be exact, _Saphira corrected. Eragon's gut twisted.

_What? _he gasped.

_You heard me, four days. Everyone has been deathly worried about you. _Eragon felt the tips of his ears beginning to burn. Saphira got to her feet and whipped her tail around the area. _Little one, go and settle their worries, tell the world that you are fit and well again, tell them that we no longer support the Empire._

_And you won't help me?_

_Don't be silly, I have my own apologies to make._

"Make the people understand what you have been through," said Arya from beside him. Saphira had obviously extended her thoughts to Arya. He looked towards her and said in a low voice, "But will they forgive us? We have slew their family and friends, we must be no more welcome than Murtagh and Thorn." At this sentence, he suddenly thought of his brother and his dragon. "How are they?" he asked Arya.

"I thought it best if they were to be kept subdued until you woke," Arya said. "You and Saphira know what is required to throw off their chains, and if they were loosed by mistake…"

"I can understand that," Eragon said slowly, "but they may be our prisoners technically, but we should not treat them so."

_Eragon, _said Saphira, _we must focus on the task before us, we need to make these people understand what exactly has happened to the both of us. Firstly, we in turn are prisoners of sorts, so why would we have access to Murtagh and Thorn? For all the Varden know, we could have been captured in battle against our will and then we would break Murtagh and Thorn out of their chains and wing our way back to Urû'baen to be pruned and plucked by the King, maybe by bringing along Arya and her dragon in the process, therefore making the Varden a lost cause. Not only that, but we could kill a lot more of them. _Eragon was silent, not for the first time, he had to marvel at a dragon's logic. _So to prevent all of this and make the people trust us once more, we have to show them that we a not part of the Empire, that we really are not going to stab them in the back as they welcome us with open arms. To gain their trust again, we must prove that we are not sympathetic to the Empire and with that, you and I have to do something to make them trust us once more._

_But what should we do? _Eragon growled, frustrated and he ran his fingers through his hair, breaking out of Arya's arms and he started to pace the floor. He was thinking hard, frowning.

Saphira stated the obvious. _Swear your loyalties to Nasuada._

_Saphira, I am sick and tired of answering to a liegelord, look at Galbatorix! How do you know Nasuada won't use me as a tool? Remember the dwarf's coronation? Remember what happened? Remember how she used me for her own benefit?_

_Eragon, you're being selfish, _Saphira cut in.

_You hated it as much as I did! I am not a runner boy! _

_Then imagine how he would feel, _Saphira muttered almost to herself, but Eragon ignored the last comment. He tried to calm himself down and eventually, his anger subsided.

"I…I just don't want us to get tangled up again so soon after we have gotten free," he whispered, hugging himself at the same time, rocking back and forth on his heels. A hand touched him gently on his neck and Eragon turned around to find Arya behind him.

"It will be alright," she said in a low voice, slipping her hand from his neck and into his own palm. He swallowed and turned around to see Arya's open face, her hope and her smile; he couldn't say no to her. But….

"I'm not ready to face them yet," Eragon said, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Arya sighed, placing her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed.

"Eragon, listen to me: people have been waiting since the battle has ended for you to come. They have held onto their hope ever since you and Saphira were captured months ago. Don't crush their hopes. You are the slayer of Durza—"

"But you have killed a Shade as well," he muttered. Arya cut over him.

"—and you have defeated Murtagh and Thorn, beating them back when nobody else could."

"Arya," Eragon said, "will you please listen to-?"

"No, you listen to me," said Arya, "people are relying on you now; they are waiting for you to come out, for you are their hope."

"But look at what I have done!" Eragon cried, throwing his arms out wide to illustrate the point. "Saphira and I have slaughtered their friends, their family members, and do you think that they will welcome me back with open arms? Besides, you are a powerful Dragon Rider; they would much prefer to have you protecting them than me."

"Do you think that you cannot fight for what you think is right because of what others think of you?" Arya demanded. "People cast me odd looks and queer glances because I am not human, and I don't care what they think off me. The only thing which matters is that you stand up for what you believe, no matter if you are scorned, no matter if people spit at your feet, and no matter if you run the risk of becoming a martyr. What I am trying to say is that you should not go on other's opinions. Go out there and show me the man I love." Her eyes flashed and Eragon sighed. She was putting up a very good point. Her logic was sound enough.

_It's the dragon in her, _said Saphira. She nudged him in the small of the back whist adding, _What are you waiting for? Go out there! I will be right behind you._

"And I will be beside you all the way," said Arya. Eragon walked towards the tent flap and pushed it open. He squinted as bright light came into his eyes and he heard a cry of relief somewhere off to his right. Looking around, Eragon saw nothing until something had crashed into him; bring him up into a strong embrace which brought the air out of his lungs. The pressure vanished and Eragon pulled away, his fist half clenched and raised, but his arm dropped to his side when he saw Roran's worried face. He was smiling and looking at Eragon as if seeing him for the first time.

"Roran!" Eragon cried out. His smile became wider and he gripped Eragon's arms tightly.

"Don't you dare give us a fright that big again," he growled. Eragon smiled and shrugged his way out of Roran's grip. He could hear more cries and gasps from the surrounding area and soon he was in the middle of a sea of people, all shouting out at the same time. Eragon was reminded briefly of the time when he had come back from Helgrind, the masses of bodies pressing in from all sides.

"Welcome back, Shadeslayer!"

"May good health follow both you and Brightscales, Argetlam!"

"Shadeslayer…"

"Brightscales…"

"Argetlam…"

His head swum from all of the noise and he closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but he was getting louder every second. He curbed the impulse not to scream out at them, to silence them with magic, but it was getting more difficult with every new voice that added to the din. He retreated deep within his mind, throwing up dozens and dozens of layers of barriers, shielding everything in his mind apart from his connections to Saphira and Arya.

"Eragon!" Someone shouted his name and he looked around, surprised that they had not called him by one of his titles. He saw a flying whirl of copper hair as Katrina came towards him, standing up on the tips of her toes to kiss Eragon on the cheek. Unlike the last time he had seen her, Katrina now had a swollen bulge on her belly, suggesting that it was not long now until her first child would be born. "The both of us have been dead sick with worry about you and Saphira, after what happened before the battle…. We could hear you from our tent, the whole camp could." She finished in a low voice and Eragon touched her on the arm. Katrina looked up into his eyes, trying to put a smile on, but Eragon could sense and see that she was still afraid of him.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It's me, I'm back." He looked up once more and saw other people he recognised from his childhood; there was Horst, Elain by his side with a baby on her hip, Loring the shoemaker and his wife, Fisk, Nolfavrell, Brigit, Gertrude, Morn in innkeeper, Gedric and so many more faces which he knew. Eragon found Arya's fingers and he squeezed them tight. There was a roar and Saphira wriggled her way out of the oversized tent behind him, breaking the frame at the same time so it hung limp, the canvas dropping. There was silence for a few moments, and then she said to everyone, _Well? _

Several people were startled and more than one person cried out, but Eragon smiled, a small laugh escaping from him. It soon died in his throat when he sensed shielded minds moving towards him, and soon he could see twisting sets of horns rising above the crowd. His face set in a hardened expression as he saw the party drawing closer to him.

"Move aside!" he heard a guttural voice bellowing, "Lady Nightstalker is coming through!" Saphira swung her head around and Eragon caught a flash of her sight. From her vantage point above the crowd, she could see the figure in brown and red clothes in the middle of the Urgals coming towards them. The crowd moved aside and Eragon slipped his hand out of Arya's, turning to face the towering, grey skinned monsters. They gazed at him with something Eragon couldn't identify and he didn't have time to linger upon it, for they stood aside to reveal a much smaller figure.

"It is wonderful to see you awake," said Nasuada, her voice carrying around the area so everyone could hear her.

Eragon dipped his head. "I am very much relived myself to be away from Urû'baen and the King," he said.

"That as it may be," she said, "there are many things which you have done in Galbatorix's name."

Eragon felt anger rising within him, it came more often than it had done before, but he quelled it. "I did not do them intentionally," he said in a low voice. Nasuada sighed and looked at him with something akin of pity.

"I am not in your position, therefore I cannot exactly understand what you and Saphira have been through, but I am trying to understand your position. We need to talk," she said flatly.

Eragon became aware of the acute silence which had fallen over the Varden, awaiting his answer. "Aye," he said finally.

Nasuada nodded, turned around and walked away. The Nighthawks followed her as did Eragon and Arya, Saphira taking to the skies at the same time.

_I'll meet you there, the city is just too crowded for my liking, _she said.

"What did happen in Urû'baen?" Arya asked, her eyes solemn and she fell into step beside him.

"I think you'll be hearing about it soon," he said, "I … I don't want to describe it more than once, can you understand that?"

"Of course I can. Although it may not be the same, do remember what happened when I was Durza's captive."

Eragon remembered Arya's back, the bruises, the burns, the whiplashes and brands. He then thought of his own back and the crisscrossing scars covering the flesh.

The Keep loomed above their heads and the structure blocked out the sunlight; Eragon suppressed a slight shiver. Saphira came to land beside him, watching him with her bright sparkling eyes. Eragon started when another dragon came down beside Saphira, but this one was a deep emerald green.

Arya looked at him, her head tipped slightly to one side. "Eragon, this is Rámir, my dragon."

Eragon bowed low and the dragon, Rámir, dipped his head.

_Well met, Shadeslayer, _said a male voice in Eragon's head and he could only guess it belonged to Rámir.

_I am glad that we are acquainted and no longer have to fight for different sides, _Eragon said.

Rámir turned his head towards Arya and words passed between them, Arya glanced at Eragon a few times during the conversation.

_Enough of this, _Saphira cut in_, Nasuada is waiting for us, and I believe Eragon and I owe her some apologies. _

_Yes, _Eragon said slowly. "Are you coming?" he said to Arya. She nodded and the two of them entered the Keep.

Stone walls pressed in from all around. After they had gone through the stone passage way which lead under the Keep's battlements, they emerged into a wide courtyard with a square of grass in the middle. It was opened topped so Eragon could see the sky which was soon blotted out as Saphira and Rámir leapt over the wall, half unfurling their wings for balance and an extra push. They landed on the grass, causing the carefully manicured lawn to descend into ruins, the dragons' talons uprooting grass and leaving dirt covered footprints on the green blades, each tailored to perfection. At the far end, two guards were positioned outside a door with their pikes crossed in front of an archway. Presumably, this was where they were supposed to go. Arya led the way. She stopped before the guards and they slid their pikes out of the way allowing her passage. Eragon followed, but to his surprise and slight annoyance, the guards crossed the pikes again.

"Will you let me through?" Eragon asked.

"Will Nasuada allow it?" one replied.

"Oh for heaven's sakes, man, let him through!" Eragon was glad for Nasuada's commanding tone for the guards uncrossed their pikes and let him through the doorway, but Eragon could sense their reluctance.

_They have a right not to trust you, _Saphira murmured, silencing Eragon's angry thoughts.

_I know, but it just so strange and difficult. These people trusted me in the past, but now they bar doors as if I were unwelcome amongst them._

_But in some cases, little one, the both of us are, _Saphira said. She lay her head down by the front door, Rámir placing his beside hers so they could hear the conversation going on inside.

An oaken table dominated the room. It had several chairs placed around it where officials sat. Nasuada was seated in her high backed chair which had been carried all the way from Aberon. Her almond shaped eyes were fixed on Eragon and she indicated a seat on her immediate right.

"Please, sit." Eragon walked over and sat down, finding Arya seated next to him. She gave him a small smile which he returned before settling himself down. "I am sorry about that," Nasuada said in a tight voice.

"It's alright, they had a reason," Eragon said.

"Even so, it was appalling behaviour on their part," Nasuada said, smoothing down the front of her dress at the same time.

All the seats had been filled by now, and Eragon saw Islanzadí sitting on Nasuada's other side, with Jörmundur beside her, the Council of Elders was present, halfway down the table, and their eyes were adverted from Eragon, looking down into their laps, or on the table, or cast towards the ceiling. There were also people Eragon did not recognise, lords and ladies that he had never met. Eragon saw Nar Garzhvog standing at the table, his giant horns spiralling towards the ceiling, and dwarfed behind him was Roran.

"Eragon, I am sorry from dragging you to a meeting so soon after the battle and so soon also after you have regained consciousness," Nasuada started, "but these things cannot wait."

"It doesn't matter," Eragon said, looking her directly in the eye. "Saphira and I wanted to talk to you anyway about several things."

"Go on," she said, starting to tap the arm of her chair with her nails so they made a clacking sound on the hard wood.

"The fates of Murtagh and Thorn are one of the things that we wanted to talk about."

"Ah yes, we have them secured, but we cannot hold them for long. If we don't help them soon, they will break free from Dras-Leona, and I'm afraid that would leave us little choice, we would either have to kill them or seize them again, we cannot afford Galbatorix getting his hands on another Rider."

"I say that we should kill them straight away," Islanzadí said hoarsely. "Murtagh and his confounded dragon have done unforgivable things."

"Oromis and Glaedr's deaths were not done by Murtagh's hand," Eragon snapped. "Galbatorix killed them."

"And how do you know this?" Islanzadí shot back.

Eragon ground his teeth in frustration. "Because of Glaedr's heart," he said in the ancient language.

Islanzadí eyed him and Eragon could see that she wanted to refuse, wanting the slightest excuse to end the lives of the red Rider and dragon, but Eragon had spoken in the ancient language.

"They are good people and it was not their fault," he pressed on, still using the same tongue.

Islanzadí pursed her lips and shifted her weight. "They should still be punished," she whispered in the common tongue.

"And I shouldn't?" Eragon demanded.

There was silence in the room.

Then: "We cannot avoid all punishment on your behalf," Nasuada said. "You have killed and maimed countless soldiers of the Varden, and I will not let that go ignored. I am sorry."

"I can understand that," Eragon said tightly.

"It will be discouraging to the Varden if I were to have you flogged in front of everyone as I've pointed out before," Nasuada said. "But sometimes, we have no choice. Yes, you can heal anything we have done to you, but I cannot let you off the hook."

_We both understand, _said Saphira slowly.

"Aye," Eragon said. "I have done wrong."

"How can you just sit there and talk about such things?" Jörmundur said. "Eragon has pointed out that Murtagh and Thorn have not committed evil because they chose to, I would say the same for Eragon and Saphira's case."

"Then what would you do?" Nasuada demanded.

Jörmundur sighed and wiped his brow. "I would hear the facts first and then decide what should be done."

Nasuada nodded to herself. Then she sat up in her chair, placed her hands on the table and fixed Eragon in her gaze, slowly looking over to Saphira as well. "I also agree with Jörmundur. It was hasty of me to jump to conclusions. Eragon, Saphira, tell us what happened in the capital, and then I shall make a decision."

_She's giving us a chance, _Saphira said to Eragon.

_I know, but I'm not ready to speak about it just yet._

_Sometimes, we have little choice. _

Eragon returned Nasuada's gaze and said, "Alright, I will, we both will. But I do so grudgingly. This is what happened in Urû'baen."


	55. Chapter 55 -- Our Suffering

55

**Our Suffering**

_I remembered black skies__, the lightning all around me  
I remembered each flash, as time began to blur.  
Like a startling sign, that fate had finally found me  
And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve._

**_– New Divide: Linkin Park_**

"It will take a while," Eragon said. His hands where clenched and he laid them on the table. He looked towards Saphira, who had raised her head slightly, and she gave a small nod.

_Come on, _she said gently. Her encouragement gave Eragon strength and heart to go on.

"As I said, it will take a while.

"The first few days after our capture were uncomfortable," Eragon started, his voice a low monotone, "we were tossed about a lot, but I was unconscious for two days after the battle we had by the Surdan border. When I awoke, I found myself restrained beside Saphira. We were held down by rope and chain, transported on a wooden platform throughout the Empire, and soon, we had reached the outskirts of Urû'baen." He remembered the farmer who had charged at the soldiers and shuddered inwardly. "That same evening, we were presented to the King, I shiver still the memories, I remember him looking at me from a great height, a figure in robes of gold and black, his eyes as dark as a bottomless pit. His voice was smooth when he first addressed me, the first of many times. 'Arise, Dragon Rider' he said.

"I remember those words very clearly, perhaps the most clearly. I was afraid, we both were and he knew it. We were taken through to the throne room. It was oppressive, pressing in from all sides and I felt small and insignificant in the centre of it, forced to my knees in front of Galbatorix. I could feel Saphira's fear as well and she was my only comfort that night. I remember Murtagh standing away from me, shrouded by shadows so I could not see his face, with Thorn pinning down Saphira behind me. I remember Galbatorix also handling my sword." He ran his hand across Brisingr's cross guard and grip, the Brightsteel and black wood cool under his fingertips. "His words enraged me when he next spoke. 'I doubt you deserve this, Eragon; perhaps I shall keep it for this is a fine sword' he said. He only smiled, and then Saphira and I were separated. I was taken to a cell deep below the citadel and Saphira below the throne room.

"I was suppressed with a drug so I could barely feel her and she could barely feel me. That was one of the cruellest things Galbatorix did to us." Eragon saw Arya give a slight shudder out of the corner of his eye; he knew what she was thinking. "I was kept down there for days at a time, the door only being opened when food was pushed through and so the straw could be changed after a couple of weeks, and all the while, I was separated from Saphira.

"He humiliated me by taunting me with the promise of meat, and that was the only thing which related to food which he gave me. Many days, I went hungry, but I was thirsty so I could not escape the mind numbing effects of the drug which was slipped to me every day.

"The next time I saw her was a week and a half later, and only then for a few hours. We were separated again afterwards and Galbatorix laughed at our suffering. He also called for me to raid my memories, searching for words to describe my very nature; he searched for my true name. I have to say his method weren't gentle, he ravaged my mind and after he extracted himself, I was left weak. It was the first time when he did this that he discovered that my back had been healed, that the scar which had previously been there was no more because of the events at the Blood-oath Celebration. He flew into such a rage when he saw this. Galbatorix summoned Murtagh and punished him for not telling him about this. Then we were dismissed. I don't know why he was so angry, I never found out the reason so I can't explain that."

He continued to explain his ordeals with Saphira sometimes taking over the narrative so Eragon sat and listened to her, comforted by her voice. The events when Rámir's egg had disappeared, the torture with the salt, the second and third sessions when Galbatorix had invaded Eragon's mind, placing together words in the ancient language with Eragon unable to act and helpless. And then he told them of meeting with Robert and Fembor's company, his attempted escape where Galbatorix had enforced his and Saphira's true names, trapping them in his service. He told them of how, when Galbatorix told him to, ended the lives of everyone apart from Robert that he had felt helpless as the powers of magic took hold of his sword and his body. What particularly aroused Nasuada's attention was of the mention of Monica.

"Does she have black hair, brown eyes and training in magic?" she asked. Eragon nodded.

"I know she's here. She was beside me when I woke." Nasuada nodded and called for a captain.

"Look for a woman of middling height, black hair brown eyes and goes by the name of Monica. Bring her back here as soon as possible. Arouse a member of Du Vrangr Gata to aid you."

"As you wish," he said, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Nasuada turned back to Eragon and waved a hand.

"Please continue."

Eragon told them of the dinner and his scrying of Arya and Rámir, realising that what Galbatorix had told him was true. It was after Bullridge when Eragon faulted slightly. He and Saphira had refrained from mentioning the giant snake above the city. Nasuada had been listening with baited breath and the spell was broken as Eragon stumbled into silence. Others around the room were roused as Eragon stopped talking.

"The next bit is slightly harder for the both of us," he said after a stretch. Nasuada nodded, interlocked her fingers and placing her chin on her hands.

"Alright, shall we leave it there?" she asked in a low voice.

_Since we have started talking, we would prefer to finish this today, _said Saphira making any further talk on the subject void.

"Please continue then," said Nasuada.

Eragon picked up where he had left off. "Galbatorix was true to his word. Not once did we leave the city walls after we returned from Bullridge. Firstly we were separated once more, I hated him for it, but I saw him everyday afterwards. He crept into my head and muddled my thoughts, making it hard for me to be able to tell what the facts were and what the lies, the truth coated in honey were. You don't want to know some of things which he said, but I'll give you a summary: he gave me his view on the world, sharing his experiences with me and each image told a story. One which was mostly prominent to me was his current criteria; I could feel that he wasn't quite there, that there was a part of him missing, blown away to leave a gaping hole. It was that place within him where his dragon used to be. I felt it as if Saphira herself was gone, and so I should never see her again. It broke me sometimes, and for a while, I pitied him. Arya would understand this, but it is hard for me to make you understand the bond which a Rider shares with his or her dragon. It is something unique, for you know someone will always be there for you. But with Galbatorix, that had been taken away from him.

"I was kept in the dark a lot when I was with him. I couldn't see around me, I could even feel anything with my mind; it was as if a blanket had been cast over me. Often I was slightly drowsy, it felt like that anyway. I don't know what sort of spell had been cast over me, but it kept me subdued and I didn't fight back at the King. He never stopped talking, always his voice was low as he talked to me, and I remember standing there, drinking it all in, I remember saying 'yes' to questions where I should have said 'no'. I remember how he changed my view of the world, crushing all of the things which I knew in my heart to be right, and he replaced them with lies. I accepted these things and threw away my previous beliefs."

_And it was the same with me, _said Saphira. _As Eragon said, we were separated and the King came to see me as well, but not as often as Eragon, maybe once or twice a week. I wasn't even allowed outside on regular counts. Mostly it was Shruikan who was with me. He wasn't as harsh Galbatorix, and I could smell and see his reluctance. I wasn't kept in the dark like Eragon, but I, like him, was always slightly tired, there was a haze on my mind and I didn't fight back. But always my muscles were exploding with pent up energy which I couldn't expel. Shruikan told me things which I refused to believe, but the spell worked its magic on me and I quickly changed my views._

"We both did," Eragon said. "After that had lasted a month or more, I was a new person; I didn't know kindness to anybody apart from Saphira. I was told that the Varden were the very symbol of evil, the elves were demons and that Galbatorix had every right to the claim of the throne. I believed that I was unloved, that I was alone in the world apart from Saphira. I didn't think twice about denying any of these things, for I thought they were all facts."

_At the same time, I started my training in the open with Shruikan, _said Saphira. _My progress was sped along because of Glaedr's training, and he was pleased with that, Galbatorix especially. Shruikan taught me things of combat I had alone ever dreamed about and my power grew with every passing day. It was after a few weeks of training that one day Thorn was brought to me. Galbatorix came down afterwards and Eragon was not with him. I asked where he was, and Galbatorix told me he was upstairs in his room. I could feel Eragon's fear, worry and anger and I knew at once something was wrong. _Saphira was looking at her talons here and flicking her tail back and forth. The room was completely silent as Saphira continued in a shaking voice. _I do not want to go into the details, but I will let you know that I will soon have a clutch of my own eggs. _Eragon dug his fingernails into his palms and bit his lip. There were tears stinging his eyes and he fought them back desperately. Saphira didn't say anymore, for it was not necessary. Several women had gasped in horror and Rámir snarled. Jörmundur gripped the edge of the table and Arya was looking at Eragon and Saphira.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to Eragon, touching his hand at the same time. Nasuada laid her hand on the table and cleared her throat. All muttering died down at once.

"Saphira, I am not in your position, but I am so very truly sorry. I can tell from your tone that it was the last thing you wanted to happen."

_I have dreamed of hatchlings, but I have never truly wanted them after I learned that our race will soon be extinct, _she said bitterly. _I can bear the burden of being of the last generation of dragons, but I do not want it to fall onto the shoulders of my hatchlings. It is done and there is nothing anyone can do._

"And that is not all," Eragon said, trying to steer the subject away from Saphira. All the attention in the room was turned to Eragon.

_Thank you, little one, _Saphira said to him alone. Eragon smiled.

"I was not left alone after… Galbatorix came back to me and took me below the castle. There he coached me in the arts of Dark Magic. Soon under his guidance, I learnt how he worked his way into people's mind, despite their greatest efforts to block me. This was soon put into practice. I was often blindfolded and to try and fight people off with sword and magic. I killed so many during my days down there, almost every day. Brisingr spilt blood and I ended lives. I killed and killed until Galbatorix was satisfied with the results. I don't remember how many lives I ended; to me it was natural to kill after weeks, I did not flinch at the prospect of shedding blood, I did not shy away from ending a being's live, I took it all in my stride.

"And with my skills with the blade, I became more trapped within Galbatorix's net. He told me so many secrets and wonderful things. I wanted to learn more and this pleased him greatly. I was leaving my old self further and further behind. I laughed at my own weaknesses and I scowled upon my acts of good.

"After the snows melted, Galbatorix left me alone some days. I kept to myself and seldom saw anyone apart from Saphira. Murtagh and I were separated for the entire time so the next time I saw him after arriving back from Bullridge was when we were charged to take sixty thousand men to Dras-Leona to fight against the Varden. We arrived in due time and I believe Arya and Rámir saw Saphira and myself before we entered the city." He finished and sat back. It was a good feeling to be able to tell others about his ordeals in Urû'baen apart from Saphira. He'd been forbidden to talk about it to Murtagh and for a reason: Eragon was closer to Galbatorix.

"From what I've heard," Roran said suddenly, putting his feet up on the table at the same time and fixing Eragon in his gaze, "I don't blame you."

"Let not jump to conclusions on the subject just yet," one of the Council members said, her tone commanding.

"Do you want to convict him?" Roran demanded. She was silent and did not answer the question.

"It's a possibility," she said after a while. Roran stared at her, dumbfounded and Eragon could see the anger sparkling in his eyes.

Eragon beat him to it. "I did not do these things because I chose to!" he fumed. The woman, who he now recognized as Sabrae gave him a flat stare and pulled herself up, throwing out her chest.

"You once said to us that you could guide the Varden yourself with your efforts! What if you have come back to take control of the Varden and lead us to our very downfall?" she asked. Eragon hit the table hard with both of his fists and Saphira let out a low hiss.

"We are not here to lead you to your downfall. We could walk out of here and leave right now if we wanted to and fight for Galbatorix if we really wanted to. But we don't. We will stay because we know that fighting for the freedom of the Empire is right. Right now, you are giving me less reason to stay. You claim we fight for Galbatorix; do you really want us to fight for him? Why am I telling you what happened in Urû'baen otherwise? Do think Saphira and I are traitors like the Twins? If you don't like what you are hearing, get up a leave." His tone had acted like a whip and Sabrae had shrunk down in her seat. She didn't move so Eragon sat down again and crossed his arms, eyeing her with distaste. His threats and accusations hung in the air, a piece of his newly awoken anger. Eragon thought bleakly that six months ago he would have been angry, but not that angry. The rest of the people in the room were guttered. Roran was fingering the head of his hammer in a distracted way, Arya looked at the table, her eyes slightly glazed and Eragon guessed she was talking to Rámir. Nasuada had become ridged.

The Council had gone very quite in their seats, fidgeting nervously and Eragon was slightly pleased by their reaction.

"You could be making it up," Sabrae suddenly accused of him and Eragon inwardly groaned in exasperation. His eyes flashed and he angrily pointed to the scar above his eye.

"This happened because I tried to escape from Galbatorix a second time, and it wasn't that only thing that happened as well that night! I was whipped and tortured by other means as well," he stormed.

_And I likewise, _said Saphira. Sabrae's head twisted around and Eragon could see her fear. But an idea was sparkling in her eyes.

"Prove that you are not acting for Galbatorix," she said.

Eragon stared at her, he knew it had been coming, but it still came as a bit of a shock to him to suddenly have it thrust forward. The room was deadly quiet, all waiting to see what Eragon would do. He in turn was talking to Saphira.

_It's quiet obvious what she means, _Saphira said, looking him straight in the eye.

_I know, but we have just broken free of an oath, _Eragon said. _I don't want either of us to get tangled up in them again; look where it leads us!_

_Yes, but if we refuse, they will suspect something and they are all the more likely to mistrust the both of us._

_We could use the ancient language, _Eragon mused.

_That we could do, but only there people in the room understand the language, they are Arya, Rámir and Islanzadí, _Saphira pointed out. _We could be making up gibberish for all they knew._

_Aye, but they are likely to translate for us._

_Ah, but it's quite clear which side Arya is on: yours. That means she cannot be fully trusted either. Magic is a tricky business, _said Saphira.

_But the only hope we have, _Eragon said.

_I know, Sabrae has backed you into a corner. _Eragon made up his mind and turned his attention back to the room. He stood once more.

"I will not swear anything of loyalty to a liegelord," he started. There was a rippling and Sabrae's smirk because all the more pronounced. "I have had enough of it. I have been someone's puppet for far too long, and it forces me to do things I would not choose to. Some of you may think that I am doing this for the good of the Empire." He looked directly at Sabrae and she quailed. "But I am no longer bound to Galbatorix," he continued in the ancient language. There was silence and Eragon sat again.

_He speaks the truth, _Rámir said. _They are not your enemies. Trust them. _Sabrae sunk even lower in her seat, defeated. Islanzadí eyed Eragon and she looked him up and down.

"A remarkable tale, Shadeslayer," she said. "I am still not so satisfied though about the red Rider and his dragon. Justice should still be brought down upon Murtagh and Thorn. What of the death of King Hrothgar? Galbatorix's only orders then were to capture Eragon and Saphira – which they failed at – and nothing was said about singling out Hrothgar and slaying him." There was a silence and Islanzadí looked triumphant. Eragon had no answer for that.

"Give them a second chance." Eragon was surprised when he heard Arya's voice. Islanzadí looked shocked.

"What about Oromis and Glaedr's deaths?" she said, anger clouding her voice. Arya lifted her chin and stood up.

"Would you really be able to kill a dragon?" she asked. "Murtagh and Thorn maybe disgraced, but they are still a dragon and Rider. I know why Galbatorix was angry when he found out about Eragon's back." Eragon sat up slightly straighter.

"I always wondered. Not only did Durza show an interest at laying open my back from shoulder to hip, but when I was at Helgrind, a Ra'zac attempted to cut open my back in the same manner."

"Galbatorix can control people with scars such as that," Arya said. "The night that Jarnunvösk died, an Urgal laid open Galbatorix's back in a similar manner. He then created a spell to allow him to control others with the same condition. Murtagh's scar was no accident."

"How do you know of this?" Nasuada asked. "This is important information."

"I shall keep my source to myself," said Arya. She sat again. There was a murmuring along the table.

"Everyone is dismissed," Nasuada said suddenly, much to everyone's surprise. "I have a lot to think about and some things to discuss with Eragon, Arya, Saphira, Rámir and the Queen." Everyone else stood up, scraping back their chairs and they filed out. Jörmundur remained behind.

"Do you need me?" he asked Nasuada.

"No, but thank you," she replied. Jörmundur followed everyone else out. Nasuada sighed and looked towards Eragon. "I can understand that you did not want to openly swear your loyalties to anyone, even when Sabrae challenged you, Eragon, but I cannot let you wander around to do whatever you please in battle and other such occasions."

"What are you getting at?" he asked suddenly.

_As you know, Nasuada, _Saphira started, _we have just broken free from Galbatorix. Eragon and I do not want to start getting tied up in oaths again. What you are suggesting is in that category. _

"No no, you don't understand where I am coming from," Nasuada said, slashing a hand through the air at the same time. "I am trying my best to put myself in your position. You don't have to pledge anything to me, the Queen or anyone. But we need to come to an agreement on this: you need a commander." Eragon was silent. He considered it from all angles, trying to see if there was a trick involved in this. Nasuada was watching him as he thought. He looked towards Islanzadí, and then to Nasuada again.

"I do not want to discuss this now," he said finally. "Saphira and I are weary and we want to be left alone for a few days at least. Please can we? We are under no immediate threat and we have been through a lot in the past months. The last thing the either of us want to think about is fighting. I'm sorry, but I want this decision to be left to another day. Now if you do not mind." He turned around and walked towards the door. Nasuada opened her mouth to say something, but Islanzadí said, "Leave him. He has been through enough for a lifetime, both him and Saphira."

Eragon pulled himself onto Saphira who got to her feet, turned around and raised her wings. She took to the sky a moment later, letting the gentle wind blow her away from the city.

_You should not have left like that, _she said.

_I know, but I have had enough for one day. What Nasuada was suggesting was too much for me to think about. I just want to be alone with you for a while._

_We will, don't you trouble yourself, _she said in a gentle voice. Eragon wrapped his arms around her neck and closed his eyes, smiling as the wind rushed past his face.

* * *

**ERAGON **HEARD FOOTSTEPS behind him but he ignored them, tossing up another rock before releasing it so it splashed across the surface of the lake. It bounced seven times before it sunk under the water to never be seen again. Saphira had gone off hunting and he had settled himself down by the edge of Leona Lake, throwing rocks out across the water, enjoying how they bounced off the water's surface.

"Eragon."

He looked around to see Arya standing behind him and he stood up, walking over to her and dropping another stone on the ground. She smiled at him and he looked away from her out across the rippling water. He held out his hand and she slipped her slender fingers into his own.

"Are you alright?" she asked, sitting down at the same time.

Eragon followed suit, cold waves lapping at his toes. "It was hard for me in Urû'baen," he said finally, pulling Arya close to him and wrapping his other arm around her body. "I knew I would have to tell Nasuada what had happened, but it was still hard, but harder for Saphira I think because of what happened."

"I feel so sorry for the both of you. Even though you're back here and away from that place, it still clings to you, I can feel it."

"I dream about what's happened," Eragon murmured. "However hard I try, I just can't get away from it." He blinked tears away from his eyes.

Arya rested her head on his shoulder.

"Arya," he said after a while, "I just want to know something."

"Oh?" she said.

"You rejected me at the Agaetí Blödhren, but now show your feelings to the world. Do you really love me, or is it all fake?"

Arya stared at him. "How could you think it was fake? How could you think that I would lie in the ancient language, lie to everyone else?" she asked.

"It's what Galbatorix said," he confessed. "I can't shift it. He used my memories of that night against me, he fed me the lie that you didn't care for me at all, that you even hated me."

She kissed him on his lips and Eragon was silenced from anything more he was about to say. Her lips were as soft as rose petals and Eragon closed his eyes, pulling her closer to him. The scent of crushed pine needles hung in the air and he forgot about the meeting, forgot about Urû'baen, forgot about all his worries and troubles, all he registered was Arya.

Soon she pulled away from him slowly, looking deep into his eyes. "Do you believe Galbatorix now?" she asked softly in the ancient language.

Her voice was soft and it lulled Eragon. It had shifted any of his doubts now. "No," he murmured. "Thank you."

"Why did you think that in the first place?" she asked.

"It was because of the meeting. Galbatorix said that no one cared for me. The Council of Elders only emphasised that point all the more, thinking that I should be flogged not because of what Galbatorix did, because I didn't see eye to eye with them before Urû'baen. It made me question everything twice; it is making me question everything." He looked out towards the water again and continued, "They didn't even consider what I wanted to do, and everyone ordered me to tell them what happened. They didn't even pause to think if I wanted to tell them, what it meant to me, what today means for me."

"What is it today?" Arya asked.

Eragon stroked the back of her neck and sighed. "I'm seventeen today," he said in a low voice. "I … I just wanted to be alone today when I woke. What I didn't want was to have to recount what has happened over the past five months." His hands were clenched into fists, the knuckles white and he lowered his head, looking at the ground between his legs. "I wasn't ready to go back to Urû'baen just yet," he whispered.

Arya placed her head on his shoulder and his hand moved to wrap around her shoulders. "You were brave to be able to recount those past months today," Arya said. "It was hard for me as well to talk about my ordeals with Durza, but that was after I had time to recover from the shock of it all. I admire you for that."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sunset.

In Urû'baen, a pale faced youth knocked on the oaken door of the throne room, halt for a few seconds, and then entered. He could feel the presence of the King as if he had a sixth sense and he walked towards the throne, head bowed and feet shuffling. He bowed before the King and cleared his throat.

"Well?" Galbatorix said.

"My lord," the youth whispered his voice quavering, "Dras-Leona has fallen…and the Dragon Riders have been seized … by the rebels." The last thing he heard was a scream of rage and a curse before a bolt of midnight black pierced his chest.


	56. Chapter 56 -- Red Matters

56

**Red Matters**

_The djinni pulled him closer. "Free me _now."

**_– The Amulet of Samarkand: Jonathan Stroud_**

_Some things are needless to say,__  
__We dive into the darkness__  
__When everything fades to grey._

**_– Everything fades to Grey: Sonata Arctica_**

"Vakna."

The single word rang through the air and it contained power and commandment. There was a dull clink as heavy iron chains shifted and a head was lifted up. He groaned and opened his eyes to find dark surroundings. Urû'baen was drearily familiar and Murtagh furrowed his brow. Why was he here? In the dungeons? What had he done to displease Galbatorix? Hadn't he and Thorn carried out their commands? He scanned the room. A door made of heavy elm and a small window cut into it fitted with bars; a water pitcher on the floor which was covered in straw; the man in the corner leaning casually against the wall, his head tilted to one side…. Wait! That was new. Murtagh studied him.

He was slightly shorter than Galbatorix and brown hair stuck out at old angles, as if fingers had been pushing it backwards. One of his ears was illuminated and the tip was pointed. The light was falling across the left side of his face and a thin line was present just above the eye.

"Eragon," Murtagh gasped. Eragon pushed himself off the wall and came over to Murtagh. He tired to stand up, but to his frustration found that he couldn't. A heavy ring had been secured to the floor and his wrists had been bound by chains which had been threaded through the ring. His arms were crossed behind his back and it was uncomfortable and slightly painful. He was on his knees so he sat on the floor. Some of the pain lessened. "What happened? I don't remember coming back."

"Back where?" Eragon asked, frowning in confusion.

"Urû'baen! Where else could we be?" Murtagh snapped, annoyed at how slow Eragon was being. "Where's Thorn? Is he alright? Is he hurt?"

"Thorn is safe, the Varden are tending to his hurts and Saphira is with him."

"The Varden?" Murtagh spluttered. "What are they doing with him? Saphira? Damn you answer me!"

"Firstly," Eragon said, squatting down beside Murtagh and looking him in the eyes, "we are not in Urû'baen. In fact, we are beneath Dras-Leona's Keep. You are in a high security cell with four guards outside the door all day, every day. You have been kept here for four days and nights and the Varden have left you well alone. No one has come in to see you. Secondly, I was not sent by Galbatorix to sneer or taunt you, I was sent by Nasuada, who is busy elsewhere. I was sent to help you break free of the King."

"Thorn and I will never be free," Murtagh shouted, wrestling with the chains. "We are his slaves, Eragon. He will never let us go. We will die a thousand times before he even considers it. He will let us go only when his Empire has been forgotten and blown away with the desert sands, washed from the face of Alagaësia by the rivers and seas, when the stars themselves have died! How can we be free? Ha! You only hope to achieve a lost cause." Eragon had listened to his rant calmly, without interruption and he considered Murtagh's every word.

"I have broken free," he whispered quietly. "You are no lost cause. Anything can be achieved if you only try. How do you know it isn't possible if you haven't tired already?"

"And you think I haven't? You are only giving me a false hope, something to strive towards when there is nothing for me in the world! Free, you? Ha! Galbatorix would never allow that! Remember what happened when you tried to break free of him that second time? Two weeks in the dark, down that rat hole, thrashed and starved, beaten and threatened." Murtagh spat the words out, but yet, there was a nagging doubt in his mind. Memories of the battle were returning, his confusion and anger when Eragon had suddenly turned his sword on him, the blow to the side of his head. That was the last thing he remembered, but then there was the amusement he felt when Thorn had soared over the Varden, reigning fire down on them and he killing them with magic, laughing at how helpless they had been before his might and Thorn's. Murtagh turned away from those memories, instead pulling at the chians which bound him to the floor. But his rant had ignited a spark of anger in Eragon and his eyes were dark and Murtagh knew he was remembering, remembering his punishments and his fingers brushed over his scar.

"Why won't you believe me?" Eragon asked in a low voice, mastering his anger and dropping his and at the same time as if he only just realised it was there.

"Do you know how many people have broken away from Galbatorix?" Murtagh asked angrily. "None! They have tried and failed, failing with the punishment of death."

"There is a first for every time."

"But not for this!"

"Will you not listen to me?" Eragon said in a strained voice, fixing Murtagh in his gaze. "I have broken free from him and that is why I am here now, to help you get away from him."

"I don't believe you! You're acting on his orders! Tantalising me with a non-existent hope! You're—"

"Will you not listen to me?" Eragon demanded, his voice rising and his eyes blazing with fury once more. He had risen up and he was bearing down upon Murtagh who quailed under his gaze. "Do you not want to be free? Do you not want to die a free man one day?" His voice had returned to its previously calm tone. "I can help you," he said in the ancient language. Murtagh looked up at Eragon and he saw no lie behind the brown eyes, no deceit, just the truth.

"You can help me?" he said in a small voice. "And when have I ever needed help?"

"Remember Bullridge," Eragon pressed. "You asked for my friendship, pleaded with me to understand your situation, tried to tell me that you were doing your best to correct your wrongs; where has that Murtagh gone? Now I am asking you to trust me." Murtagh heard no lie in Eragon's voice and he thought back to that conversation. Eragon was regarding him silently, waiting for his reply. Murtagh remembered his bitterness towards Eragon when he knew of his true father, he thought of his longing for his brother to understand his and Thorn's positions, pleading for their friendship to stretch. And, thinking about his and Eragon's friendship, his mind wandered back to before his days in Urû'baen, meeting Eragon and his travels with him throughout the Empire. He licked his lips and looked Eragon in the eye.

"How do I know that I can trust you?" he asked in a low voice.

"You can trust me," he said in the ancient language. Murtagh licked his lips and swallowed. Eragon hadn't lied, he'd said it in the ancient language, but there was always that possibility that he could be meaning another thing…maybe to trust him that Galbatorix was behind this scheme. Eragon seemed to see his uncertainty so he continued, "Galbatorix is not commanding me, and he is not my lord anymore."

There was a silence in the room. Murtagh thought through all the possibilities, but there was nothing there he could use as a counter argument, nothing there which told him of a lie.

"You said you came to help me," Murtagh said in the common tongue.

"That I have," Eragon replied.

"And Thorn?"

"Aye, the both of you."

"You and Saphira are not bound to him anymore?"

"No."

"And that's what you want to give Thorn and myself: freedom?"

"Yes."

Murtagh saw a light shining in the dark, a true hope for Thorn and himself. But then he asked the question which had been on his mind for months: "How though?"

Eragon looked into the distance for a split second and murmured, "It was Arya who freed me. Galbatorix twisted my mind and I thought she didn't care for me, and my hatred for the world was based on that, but she proved him wrong. It was the shock that jolted me out of Galbatorix's lies, therefore my true name was changed, but it hurt so much…" He trailed off into silence. Murtagh was crying out inside; more pain? He had been captured and presented the hope of escaping, yet that was through more pain on his part and Thorn's? The red dragon crossed his mind then and he steeled himself; he would do it for Thorn. He was being selfish now, shying away from the pain. If Eragon could do it, so could he.

He straightened up; bring forth his last bit of courage.

"What do Thorn and I have to do?" he said. At these words, Eragon looked happier and he closed his eyes. Murtagh waited a few seconds before he opened them again.

"Saphira has said much the same thing to Thorn and he has also agreed."

"Will I be able to see him?" Murtagh asked hopefully.

Eragon then said in a low voice, "I don't think it would be wise for you to venture outside, for your safety and the Varden's. They would be angry with you, the elves would be angry with you and the few dwarves that are here. They weren't happy to keep you and Thorn alive. Also, like it or not, you and Thorn are still under Galbatorix's control, I know what he commanded and that can take control of your actions." Murtagh looked shamefaced and he sat back on his heels.

"They'll never forgive me," Murtagh said in a quiet voice and averting his gaze at the same time. "Neither of us. We're doomed to stand apart, even if you can help and free us." Eragon was thinking hard, his brow furrowed and Murtagh could see the cogs whirring in his mind.

"I'm thinking," he said slowly. He started to pace and mutter to himself under his breath, occasionally asking Murtagh questions, questions about his childhood, Morzan (which Murtagh hated) his adult life, his time with Galbatorix and with Thorn, always talking about his relationship with Thorn and of course, what happened over the many months he had spent in Urû'baen.

"What did you do in Urû'baen? How much do you think in your opinion your personality changed? What is Thorn like? What does he like to do? How does his personality differ from yours?"

The questions drone on and on and Murtagh answered them as best as he could, elaborating on the details, revisiting the place of his nightmares, the hellish ten months he had been through and by the end, his voice was hoarse and he was shaking slightly, sweat dripping from his brow.

"I will not repeat it," Murtagh said. Eragon had let him talk for the whole time, never interrupting and his attention never wavering. Murtagh felt grateful for that, here in front of him was someone who he could share his experiences with who had gone through the same ordeal; here was someone who he could talk to as an equal; and here was someone who would not fight him, someone who would not blame him for his actions and Thorn's. So many things were on his mind now, things that had happened and he would never have touched again, but talking about them had made him more confident and more easy at mind when he had told someone else what had happened to him and his partner.

But one thing what Murtagh hated about Eragon's reactions was that he was not showing any of his emotions, nothing of his horror, nothing of sorrow, not even a little bit of sympathy. Did Murtagh's tale seem small and childish compared to his, because of Saphira's importance in Galbatorix's plans? It was as if Eragon was unimpressed, even disappointed that he hadn't presented a better story.

He had talked for a long while, Murtagh could tell that for the light outside was slightly different, as if a candle had been burning outside and it had shrunken in size. He could see a flicking flame dancing from beyond the wooden door.

"And you won't repeat it," Eragon said after a stretch of silence. He had been leaning against the wall but here he stood up straight and walked towards the door.

"You're leaving?" Murtagh cried out, tugging at his chains but he wasn't going anywhere. His conscious was numb with the magic stopping drug and he was screaming out for Thorn, wanting to know that he was safe.

"I have to," Eragon said, turning towards him again. "You've given me a lot to think about, and Thorn has given Saphira a lot to think about as well. We need to plan our actions out together. Whist my name changed in the heat of battle, yours will have to be monitored very carefully. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's got to be." Eragon knocked on the door and it was opened. He cast one more glance back towards Murtagh, and gave a tiny smile before the door was swung shut, leaving Murtagh on his own.

He sank back onto his legs and to his surprise, he felt a tear rolling down his cheek, but he could nothing to wipe it away, so he watched it fall onto the fall and disappear into the dirt. His wrists were bleeding and they were wet with tears of blood, and like the ones on his face, he could do nothing to stop them falling.

* * *

**SCREECHING **METAL AWOKE Murtagh and he was aroused from his sleep. Murtagh had fallen asleep upright, his head lolling forwards and his chin touching his chest, but his head snapped up when the door was opened.

"Who—?" he croaked, but then he saw a dark pair of forearms and he drew in his breath when he recognised Nasuada before he even saw her face. Her eyes were solemn as she regarded him, stepping into the room and kneeling down before Murtagh. She stretched out and hand to touch him on his shoulder.

"Oh, Murtagh," she whispered. "What has happened to you?" Murtagh didn't answer, but he felt comforted by her presence and comforted by the fact she still felt something for him even after a few months. He remembered their previous meetings, when he had been in the same position he was in now: a prisoner of the Varden.

"Nasuada," someone said and Murtagh recognised Eragon's voice. Nasuada stood up and looked around at the same time and the spell between her and Murtagh was broken. He felt a stirring of anger towards Eragon, but it was dismissed a moment later when he realised it was for Nasuada's own safety she'd had to step away from him, in case his oaths to Galbatorix forced him to lash out at her. She retreated a safe distance from Murtagh, casting him a sorry glance.

"Will he be alright?" Nasuada asked, fixing Eragon with a locking gaze and drawing herself upright at the same time.

"He'll be fine, but it won't be easy breaking away from Galbatorix. But I believe Murtagh and Thorn will be fine, they are strong enough to do this," Eragon said. Murtagh could see him standing by the door with another woman beside him with sleek black hair. She was very beautiful and her arms were crossed, and Murtagh recognised her as Arya. She was standing very close to Eragon and Murtagh wondered at that, didn't Eragon hate Arya? He had said so when they were in Urû'baen together. But that had been in Urû'baen, and like Eragon, Murtagh would be different, he would! He and Thorn would not be Galbatorix's slaves! They would break free of him, and if Eragon had done it, if Saphira had done it, they could as well!

"I will be fine," Murtagh said, "and so will Thorn. Eragon, yesterday you asked me many questions about the subject, you told me about the pain, and I can also master that, for the reward is great. For too long I have been a slave, and I think it is about time that I should break free."

Nasuada gave a flashing smile, showing white and even teeth. She gestured towards a guard outside the door, barking an order at the same time. He came in and Murtagh saw a flash of metal in his hand, a key! He walked behind Murtagh, but Nasuada held up her hand for a second.

"Are you ready?" she asked Eragon and Arya. They nodded and Murtagh felt their minds brush against his. The probes entered and settled themselves. Nasuada gave the order for Murtagh's bonds to be released. A click, a rattle and they dropped to the floor. Instantly, his muscles contracted and locked in position. Murtagh cried out through clenched teeth as he fell onto the floor. His mind and body were struggling to free themselves because of his oath to Galbatorix, but due to the combined efforts of Eragon and Arya, he was helpless to act. A bead of sweat rolled off Eragon's brow and Arya's hands were clenched into tight fists. Murtagh had to marvel at how hard they were resisting, how hard they were working to stop Murtagh from breaking free to run amok outside if he was given the chance. Nasuada was watching in stony silence, looking disapprovingly at the guard as he backed away, he was slightly pale.

"I'm sorry about this," Nasuada said in a gentle voice, but Murtagh barely heard her, it was as if he was underwater, his oath to the King was too strong, and he couldn't break free….

Murtagh felt cold metal on his wrists and his struggles ceased to a degree. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling through watering eyes, aware now of a piece of straw poking into the back of his neck, he was also aware of the manacles which had been fitted onto his hands, the metal glinting dully in the light from a taper outside.

"Come on," Nasuada said.

The guard lifted Murtagh to his feet and the grip he had on Murtagh's arm wasn't gentle. Murtagh tried to pull away, but the guard was stronger. Where was the elven strength he needed? What had happened to it? But once again, he knew it was necessary.

_For Thorn's freedom._

Murtagh was marched outside and Eragon gave him a sorry glance before he turned around to walk up the stairs, Arya on his heels. They were still present in his mind, just in case if Murtagh became animal and wild once more so he noticed emotions flickering across the mental link. Eragon showed affection towards Arya, but this was normal, the strange thing to him was that Arya also showed affection towards Eragon. But hadn't she rejected him? It didn't make sense to Murtagh, but that was the least of his worries now. He could feel loose pebbles and other such things under the soles of his shoes, making an uncomfortable pricking sensation. Around and around the stairs spiralled, forever climbing upwards towards some unknown destination. Several corridors branched away at intervals, but these were disregarded until, quiet suddenly after passing seven or eight of them, they turned to the left and emerged into a room.

They were on the top of a staircase to which the doorway opened at, so they were at the top of the room. If Murtagh stretched his hands up, he would have been able to brush the stone ceiling. Looking down the steps he saw an oaken table at which several people were seated at and he choked when he saw who was there. Elves…. Dwarves…. His heart was beating at a tempo speed, his breath was coming fast and he quaked. Now was the time to face justice, and Eragon had promised to help him and Thorn. Was this how he kept his word, only to lock him away in the dark and bring him forth only to be punished? He saw each scene once again as he glanced from the rough faced dwarves to the slender cat like features of the elves.

_War drums filled the air, the signal which he and Thorn had been awaiting for the whole day. It filled his ears and throbbed through him. Murtagh was sitting atop Thorn with his sword drawn and looking down from the heavens upon a battlefield. He could hear the dying screams of men and beasts below him, the singing of bow strings and the roaring of a dragon somewhere below in the hell that was breaking loose. He felt so _powerful. _For weeks, he had been flourishing under Galbatorix's careful pruning, and his dragon, Thorn, had grown from a weak hatchling into a powerful beast whose blood was thick with magic. At this moment, he could feel his excitement and his fear coursing through his body._

Master your fears, _Murtagh shouted. _Remember what Shruikan has taught you!It will be alright, Thorn, trust me._ He had been scanning the battlefield when he had been talking to Thorn. He had seen a flash of a hammer swinging down again and again on the Empire's soldiers and he recognised the dwarven King, Hrothgar whom he had seen at the battle of Farthen Dûr all that time ago…. The arrival of the dwarves, he had heard, had tilted the tides of battle and it was because of Hrothgar's command, so why not remove the problem?_

Murtagh? _Thorn asked. Murtagh didn't answer him. He had raised his left palm and whispered the word. "Garjzla!" Faint silver light showed through the joints in his armour and a crackling bolt of ruby red energy shot from his palm, hissing and spitting at the air. Murtagh watched as it slowed down as the dwarven spellcasters through all of their energy into blocking his spell, but who could hope to compete with something as powerful as raw energy which would never be diminished? As he expected, the spellcasters collapsed, dead and the bolt came into contact with Hrothgar. He gasped at the air like a fish out of water, his eyes bulging for a second before he toppled. He was dead before he hit the ground, his war hammer flying from his grip._

Murtagh turned away from the dwarf's gaze, only to be caught by an elven lady's and more bitter memories came forth.

_Zar'roc's red blade slicing the air, his hoarse cry and stabs of pain as the golden dragon dug his claws into Thorn. Murtagh's eyes were watering and his tongue bleeding from where he had bit it. Another spike of pain came from his leg this time as the three-legged dragon brought his tail around to smite Thorn's leg. One of the spikes had stabbed him in the leg and he yowled. Murtagh wished he could cover his ears, block out his partner's scream of agony as he was hurt all the more. Murtagh's armour was covered in blood, not so much his, but the steel was dripping with Thorn's blood, perfectly matching his ruby scales. Every drop infuriated him all the more. The golden dragon may have been disadvantaged because of his missing foreleg, but his immense size made up for it. He was scared, his terror overruled his other emotions, and they would kill him if it was deemed necessary, they would kill Thorn…._

Go for his left side! _Murtagh cried out in desperation. Thorn grunted in recognition. He threw himself at the golden dragon's left side and began to claw at him, biting and burning him, throwing his whole heart into the attacks that came in a storm…._

_The golden dragon growled in frustration and let forth a torrent of writhing fire. Thorn hissed as the flames bathed his tail and he flapped up, flying higher and higher above the city, further away from the ground. Murtagh clung to his back, hugging his neck and closing his eyes as they passed through the cloud cover. Thorn's mind was whirling with tactics and pain. He was thinking back to his other fights and Saphira crossed his mind. She had used the cover of the clouds to hide herself and her Rider, so this is what he did now. The beating of giant wings told the both of them that the golden dragon was coming. As he emerged into the open, Thorn powered his wings forward, smashing himself into the dragon's right side._

_He growled as Thorn dug his claws into his hide, but the remaining foreleg came around, the fingers gripping Thorn and began to crush Thorn. Thorn screamed and wriggled out of the dragon's grip, much to his relief, but Murtagh cried out in pain as the golden dragon sunk his teeth into Thorn's left hind leg. He barely had time to block the bronze blade which was aimed at his head with Zar'roc, wielded by an ancient elf with silver hair and a fierce expression. Murtagh parried and swung Zar'roc, exchanging blows. He let his fear show; there was no point in denying it. With all the gifts of speed and strength Galbatorix had placed upon him and Thorn, for all the Eldunarí the King had given him, here was an opponent that far out powered him, who had far more experience than him. The elf shifted just out of range and Murtagh had the opportunity to scream out a few words._

_"Curse you for not showing yourself sooner! Curse you! You could have helped us! You could have—" Suddenly, he felt a blinding pain on his back, fire along his scar and his consciousnesses flicked slightly as he felt something else worm its way into his mind, something powerful and old. They stopped falling, a mass of interlocked limbs, wings and blades. _

_And then they began to rise._

_Up and up, faster than Thorn could fly upwards. He couldn't breathe, the air around him was thin and he tried to cry out, but he could not. The presence was forcing him back, further and further into his own mind until he could barely hear, so he could barely feel his connection with Thorn._

Murtagh! _he cried out. Murtagh tried to answer, but again, he found he couldn't. And then his larynx contracted and a smooth, rich voice issued out of his mouth, coated in honey, a voice he knew well._

_"So you survived, Oromis, Glaedr." Murtagh's scar was still burning and he tried to struggle away from the presence, but he was a fly caught in a web. Now Galbatorix's mind had taken over his whole body, assuming control of the muscles and bones, control over his limbs, refusing to let go. A smile came to his lips, but it was not Murtagh's smile. It was cold and cruel, his eyes contained malice._

_"Begone, foul oath-breaker!" the elf cried. Galbatorix chuckled, as if he pitied the words, thought them weak and unimportant. _

_Murtagh was drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he heard Galbatorix's voice, other times he heard the elf and it seemed forever when he became aware of what was happening. Galbatorix had slackened his hold on Murtagh's mind and more a brief moment, he could see again, regained control of his limbs. He was free!_

_But before Galbatorix left his mind, as one last final act, he swung Zar'roc, knocking the bronze sword out of the elf's grasp. One thought from Galbatorix flickered across his mind: _You shall be mine.

_Zar'roc was moving again towards the defenceless elven Rider, renting him from shoulder to hip. The dragon howled and pure energy radiated out of him and soon, Murtagh and Thorn had been blown backwards, tumbling to a fro in the air. The golden dragon dived towards the ground as Murtagh gained control over his limbs once more, the pain from his back fading in an instant and he gasped, gripping Thorn's spike with his free hand, looking in horror at the crimson blood dripping from Zar'roc blade. Soon afterwards, there was a deep, guttural roar from below. Murtagh shrank backwards and Thorn dived away at once as the golden dragon remerged, fury and anger blazing in the golden eyes. Thorn was too slow though. The golden dragon snapped at Thorn's tail, biting off the last three feet of it. Thorn yowled and swung around. His flight had become wobbly and unsure, but once again, Galbatorix's consciousness was pressing down on Murtagh, but this time taking control of Thorn's mind. Murtagh shouted with rage but he was powerless as Thorn flew forwards, his jaws gaping…._

_Bone snapped at the base of the dragon's skull. He writhed, but then, the light died from his eyes, the wings jerked. The body began to fall._

Murtagh's eyes were closed as he remembered the two events, but then he was being forced forwards, down towards the awaiting crowd. Where was the time going? At one point he was walking towards the silent figures, the next, the table was buzzing with conversation. Nasuada, Eragon and Arya took seat whist he and the guard where the only ones that were left standing. Murtagh's head was ducked so he wouldn't have to look at the officials seated around the table. He could just imagine what would happen next: More pain was to come for both him and Thorn, the whipping post for him no doubt. The elves and dwarves would be happy to oversee that, and then most likely a slow and painful death. But what about Thorn? Murtagh tried to put it out of his mind. The room became hushed as Nasuada rapped her knuckles against the table.

"Quiet, please," she called. Every eye was no fixed on her. She looked towards Eragon and Arya and asked, "Are Saphira and Rámir coming along soon?"

"That they are," Arya replied. Eragon nodded to emphasis the point. There was a few minutes silence before they heard the flapping of wings. Three dragons soon landed beyond the open door and Murtagh grinned as he saw Thorn in between Saphira and a deep emerald dragon with glittering eyes. There was a shallow cut of his left side and Murtagh wondered how he had gotten it. Thorn's eyes reflected his own worry like a mirror and he felt his mind, gently brushing against his own.

_Murtagh, _he said with joy. Murtagh wished to run to him, to touch his ruby scales and envelop himself deep within Thorn's thoughts. Murtagh straightened up and took a deep breath. He felt better now that he could see Thorn was alive and healthy apart from the gash in his side.

"Let us get this over with now," an elf woman said. She had a cloak of swan feathers and she looked proud with high features and cascading black hair.

"Very well," Nasuada said.

Murtagh swallowed and brought his head down again. He was biting his lip now, and his hands were shaking somewhat.

"Murtagh." He looked up to see Nasuada looking at him with sorrow in her eyes. "We have gathered here to talk over the recent events which have happened over the last year." Murtagh nodded his understanding, his fists clenched. It was now; justice would be brought down upon him and Thorn. Yes, he could try and escape and get to Thorn, maybe even injuring or killing some of the people in the room. He was working it out now: in two strides he could leap up onto the table and run along the wood. If anyone tried to resist him, well. His hands were useless in this situation, but a kick aimed in the right place could knock someone out cold. But there were the elves to consider, the dragons and the guards by the door. People in the room could perform magic, dragging him back and giving him and even more server punishment.

"On behalf of my people, I shall say this to you with honesty: Nosu fyrirgefa ono." The elf had whispered it and Murtagh's head swiveled towards her, his mouth gaping. She curled her lip because of his surprise and a thickset dwarf repeated the phrase with a grunt. Soon, the murmuring was all around the room and Murtagh staggered back, stunned. Thorn's eyes were wide and his tail had lifted, and the sorrowfulness in his eyes replaced by hope. He jumped as Saphira licked him gently on the side of his face.

_Nosu fyrirgefa ono, _she said in a soft voice.

"H-How?" Murtagh asked. They couldn't be lying! They just couldn't! They were saying it in the ancient language! How could they be lying? His fears vanished slowly, the vision of bloody clothes on the back of a man tied to a whipping post evaporated, roars and screams of pain died away in his imagination and he felt suddenly lighter inside. For months, he had wondered what it would be like to be amongst the Varden again, he had imagined people screaming for his a Thorn's deaths, their screams and jeers towards the two of them because of what Galbatorix had forced them to do. His jubilation lasted only a second longer before a gut wrenching pain took over him. Murtagh hissed and doubled over, gasping. Eragon stood up and began to make his way towards Murtagh. Thorn's tail dropped and he was kneading his claws into the dirt.

_Murtagh! _he cried out once more.


	57. Chapter 57 -- Don't Be Afraid

57

**Don't be Afraid**

_Be not afraid_

_ **– Be not Afraid: John Michael Talbot**_

Eragon had been immensely pleased about how Murtagh and Thorn's "trial" had gone that morning. It had been his idea which he had proposed to Nasuada after he had come up from Murtagh's cell. She had bitten her lip, thinking hard.

"But how will we convince the others to forgive Murtagh and Thorn? You talk about the ancient language. I won't pretend to know about it, but my knowledge extends enough that I know that one cannot lie in the tongue."

"That is true," Eragon confessed, "and I have thought of a solution to the problem. I can't say it is exactly honest for it involves trickery. Nasuada, you know of the relationship between the dwarves and the elves, I plan to use this." Nasuada was frowning softly and her eyes were hard.

"It is hardly an honest way to be acting," she had said sharply, her eyebrows meeting.

"What other choice do we have?" Eragon asked. Nasuada had been silent.

"Continue," she said after a pause.

"There is a way to lie in the tongue; you can say something which is avoiding the truth in a way so you mean something else. What I plan is that the elves could say that they forgive Murtagh and Thorn for the killing of Hrothgar, and the dwarves for the killing of my true masters." Eragon had looked Nasuada in the eye, waiting for an answer. "They are the races which he most fears, he told me so."

"It's not that, it just the thought of when he finds out the trick that has been played on him," Nasuada said.

"I know, but what else can we do? If you can suggest something else, then I am open to it."

"Tell them the truth," Nasuada said.

"I have tried! Islanzadí will not listen to me and the dwarves know for a fact that Murtagh singled out Hrothgar. He could have gone for any of them on the battlefield, yet he slays their King. And then there's the matter of Oromis and Glaedr. I cannot tell the whole world about the Eldunarya, so I cannot tell them of Glaedr's account."

"I think you are forgetting Murtagh's own account," Nasuada said.

"Yes, but again, we come around in this circle of trust. Murtagh would be able to create false memories if necessary and the elves and dwarves would grow suspicious because his true memories could be false ones, if you get my meaning. Nasuada, please don't interrupt me. Just use this method for the time being, and when the elves and dwarves begin to trust him, then we can tell them the truth and they will forgive him," Eragon pressed, almost desperate.

"But what about your own memories?" Nasuada inquired. Eragon had closed his eyes here.

"I've already told you of my account, and I do not want to visit those memories just yet." Nasuada was silent.

"I do not like it," she said finally. "But I can see your logic, Eragon. But I will not lie to Murtagh; let the others do the lying for me. Go and tell them of your proposal and if they agree, we will meet here again tomorrow."

Now, returning to the present, he looked towards Saphira who had stepped away from Thorn.

_It's done, _she said simply.

_Aye, _he said. _It went better than I expected it to as well._

_Did you doubt yourself that much? _Saphira asked him.

_Yes, _he said sheepishly. She gave a small laugh and looked back towards Thorn.

_Rámir will stay with him for now, _she said finally. _He insisted that I should take the day off. So many things have happened that you and I have hardly gotten a wink of sleep of the past two days. And I can also feel you want to go and be amongst your friends._

_That I do, _Eragon said.

_Well then, if you are doing that, I may as well have a bath, _she said finally, shaking her wings and spreading them. A moment later, she was gone. Eragon watched her flying above the city and tip forwards suddenly to dive headfirst into the lake just beyond the city walls. He wished he could go with her, but the morning before, he had promised Roran that he would come and see him after he had finished with Murtagh and Thorn's business. Eragon became aware suddenly that someone was watching him and he turned around to see Arya across the courtyard. He went over to her and stood beside her. She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"You did well today," she whispered. Eragon touched her hair at this and drew her close to him.

"You helped yesterday; you managed to persuade your mother to follow my plan whereas I did not."

"Mmm." They were silent for a few moments. Then she said, "You told me that you wanted to see your friends and family today. I would like to come."

Eragon was surprised, but he covered it up quickly.

"Of course," he said. They began to walk out and away from the Keep, trying to keep a low profile and Eragon remembering the directions which Roran had told him yesterday.

Their path led to a small cluster of houses – one with a charred roof – which Eragon guessed was the place where the Carvahall villagers were staying. Two children came running around one of the houses, holding wooden sticks and shouting and laughing as they were playing. They hadn't noticed Eragon and Arya yet, but Eragon heard them talking.

"My dragon rears his head back and blasts yours with fire!" one of the boys said.

"Yeah, but mine dodges and comes around to strike yours with his tail!" the other said. The second boy wasn't looking where he was going and ran into Eragon's knees. He looked a little angry, looking up at the same time and his face paled.

"Afla," the other boy said, turning around to see where he was, dropping his stick to his side. He stopped up short when he saw where his friend was. "Argetlam," he whispered, voice quavering. His friend, Afla, stepped back hastily and his eyes were wide. Suddenly, they turned and ran away, not looking back.

"Don't," Eragon said almost stupidly, but Arya brushed against his mind gently.

_Don't worry, _she said.

Eragon's shoulders slumped slightly and he clenched his fists. "I don't want people to be afraid of me," he whispered, almost whining. But he had gone past the stages of whining like a small child.

"Eragon," Arya sighed, "don't cling onto the past, otherwise you will destroy your future."

"I know that, but you must understand that it is hard for anyone to forget that sort of treatment, especially when you bought into the hate and lies on which you were fed. Arya, please try to understand what I am saying, please."

"I'm trying to, but you have been through worse things than I, not only did you have to worry about yourself, but you also had Saphira to look out for," Arya soothed him.

Eragon turned away from her gaze, bitterly wishing Saphira was here with him. "This is going to be hard for the both of us, Arya," he said. Eragon tried to put it behind him and he straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "Roran's waiting, come on."

He sensed Roran's mind in one of the inner most houses and walked up to the door. He knocked and stepped back. He heard a scurrying inside and the door was thrown open. Roran grinned when he saw Eragon and Arya together, Katrina coming up behind him. Eragon could tell from her reaction and from her flicking thoughts that she was surprised to see Arya, although she tried her best to cover them up. Roran's grin faltered somewhat when he saw Eragon's expression and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Eragon shrugged his hand off and fixed Roran in his eyes. "I'm fine, there's no need to lay your hand on me," he almost snapped. Roran pulled back a little but then Eragon continued on. "I—I'm sorry, it's just that … with Galbatorix…"

"I understand," Roran said quickly. "Come in."

Arya and Eragon stepped over the threshold and entered the little house. It was small and slightly cramped, but there was a stove and a fire smoldering in one of the doors. Eragon caught the scent of baking bread and he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. Katrina sat down and Roran leant on the table beside her.

"How is it going?" Eragon asked, gesturing towards Katrina.

"It is fine," she said, flashing him a smile at the same time. "Gertrude says there are only a few more weeks left and then I shall have a baby in my arms."

"It will be a fine child," Eragon said. He had once thought that Roran becoming a father would be ridiculous, he couldn't imagine himself as an uncle, but now since the time was so close, he felt excited and slightly apprehended. He could sense the tiny flickering of the child's mind, aimless thoughts which disintegrated before they were complete.

"We're hoping for a girl," Roran said.

Katrina smiled at him, standing up a kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, that we are," she confirmed, rubbing her belly at the same time. She breathed in deeply and Roran wrapped his arms around her. They stayed like that for a few seconds, and then broke apart.

"I noticed you two came together," Roran said.

Eragon blinked. "Aye? And what about it?" he asked.

Roran rubbed the back of his head, smiling at the same time. "It's just … no, it doesn't matter," he said.

"I can see what you are getting at, Stronghammer," Arya said. She moved to Eragon's side and laced her fingers in his. Roran was looking at Eragon, whose ears were turning red.

"Congratulations," Katrina said, beaming at the two of them and Eragon smiled sheepishly back in return.

"It's truly amazing what can happen after time," he said.

"Yes, I guess the neither of us was ready yet," Arya said. "So much had happened in such a small space of time."

Katrina moved away from Roran suddenly and went towards the oven to check on the bread. Obviously satisfied with its golden colour, she picked up a wooden paddle resting by the oven door and inserted it, taking out the bread and placing it onto a waiting earthen plate. There were two loaves of bread and these were placed by the window to cool.

"She's a very good cook," Roran murmured to Eragon.

"I remember from home," he said. He sniffed the air, warm with the scent of fresh bread and he smiled. "I wonder what would have happened if Saphira hadn't entered my life," he wondered aloud.

"But think of all the wonderful things that have happened because of it, Eragon," Roran insisted. "I'm a married man about to father his first child! And you have Saphira herself, and Arya. Think of it that way."

"You're right about that," Eragon agreed, drumming his fingers on the table.

Katrina came back to the table and she kissed Roran quickly on the cheek before turning around to a cupboard, opening it and taking out food.

As she busied herself with preparing lunch, Roran turned back to Eragon. "So how did you finally get her then?"

"Arya?"

"Aye, I thought with what happened and everything."

"It changed. It's a long story to how it came about, and I don't really know all the details myself anyway."

"What do you know then?"

So Eragon started to elaborate on what Galbatorix had told him in Urû'baen. Roran bristled at several points when his name had been mentioned and used as a weapon against Eragon. He also explained it was because of these events that he thought Arya hadn't loved him, therefore about how he had turned against the world. When he got up to the battle between him and Arya on the cathedral steps, he was grinning and burning at the ears.

"So now you've joined the rest of us love stricken fools?" Roran asked.

"I suppose I have," Eragon admitted.

Katrina was whirling around them by now and Arya had some point gone to help her with the preparations. She was silent although Katrina tried several times to start up conversation. Arya would only nod and answer with a few words before she fell silent again, and all the time, Eragon kept a thin thread of his mind connected to hers. He could sense her unwillingness to talk and her slight annoyance at something….

Eragon realized all of a sudden how much food was being prepared. There was too much for only the four of them and he asked Roran the question.

He shrugged. "I thought it would be a fine idea to ask some other people to come and dine with us."

Eragon blinked and quickly covered his slight annoyance. He wasn't ready to be swamped with yet more questions about his and Saphira's time in the capital. But yet, he was glad he could do something as simple as sitting down to lunch with his old friends from his childhood, glad that he could enjoy it all with Arya. But Arya, would she miss her own family? Miss her own friends and companions, sitting in silent misery as Eragon himself joked and talked with people he had known for all of his life?

He pushed himself up off the table and went over to her. She looked up as he approached and a small smile touched her lips. "Do you not want this?" he asked in the ancient language.

Arya pursed her lips, a slight frown coming onto her face. "I don't know," she replied. "If you are happy to stay here, then I will stay with you. I don't want to be parted so soon after we were united again."

"But what makes you happy?" he protested.

Arya fixed him with her eyes and she replied, "Being with you. I know you want to stay, Eragon, I can feel how much your heart pulls to stay, so I will stay with you, here."

Eragon was happy with that answer and he hugged her, pulling her close to him. Her hair was soft and she hugged him back with intensity. They stood like that for a while and Eragon kissed the top of her head lightly. "Thank you," he murmured, still in the ancient language.

They only came apart when there was a rap on the door.

Katrina answered it and Eragon heard her welcoming people. He looked up to see Horst and Elain walk in, Elain with her new baby on her hip. She had had another boy whom they had decided to call Abendan. Her other two sons, Albriech and Baldor were close behind her. They grinned when they saw Eragon and Arya together, casting curious glances at Eragon and each other. Eragon raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to one side as if trying to tell them to stop goggling over the two of them.

"Nice," Baldor said, coming up to the table and resting his hands on it.

"Hey, don't say it like that," Eragon said.

Albriech laughed softly and shook his head. "You're lucky, she beautiful, she's a Rider and she's the closest thing to an angel you could find here. What I think Baldor's trying to say it that."

Baldor nodded earnestly and Eragon laughed. "How's your brother?" he said, nodding towards Abendan.

"Noisy, no one can get enough sleep around the house at night so when dad starts working with the metals the next morning, he can barely land the hammer in the right place."

"Mmm, mother's losing sleep over it as well, we all are, running around the house in the middle of the night to get the baby settled again," Albriech muttered darkly.

Now mentioning it, Eragon noticed that Elain did look tired and harried.

Eragon, Albriech and Baldor were interrupted by another sharp pounding on the door. Katrina went to answer it again and soon the whole kitchen was warm with the sounds of voices. Eragon knew each and every one of them from his childhood and something was stirred in his memory, something which he couldn't put his finger on, so he dismissed the thought. The next hour and a half went by in a rush; there was laughing, eating, drinking, jokes and the exchange of news. Eragon refused to say anything about his time in Urû'baen so the topic was left well alone. Everyone admired Abendan who had fallen asleep by now and every second he was being cooed over, especially by Katrina who would have her own baby to look after in a few weeks.

"Such a pretty thing," she said, fingering his small ears and face.

"I think so as well," Elain replied proudly, stroking Abendan's head and rocking gently back and forth. "He has made his father very proud indeed."

Arya had mostly remained silent for the whole meal, dismissing various questions which were directed at her and Eragon knew she was slightly unhappy, so after a while, he got up and touched her on the arm.

"Do you want to go outside for a little?"

She nodded and the excused themselves. Eragon was relieved when they got outside, although he kept it to himself mostly and Arya was noticeably happier.

"They missed you and Saphira," she said to him.

"And I missed them," he replied. "Those people are the only thing which reminds me of my old life, and I don't want to let that go."

Arya nodded, listening to him, and yet she was slightly detached. "The reason why I didn't want to be there," she said slowly, "is because that reminded me of the things I once had and which I have now lost. The only things which I can really hold onto now are Rámir and you, Eragon. And that's all I could want in the world."

* * *

And the absence of the cleft lipped baby is not missed by anyone!

Anyone find it funny how Alberich is named after an angry dwarf and Baldor is a silly spelling of mistletoe-kebab-Baldr?


	58. Chapter 58 -- Evarínya

58

**Evarínya**

_"What do Stars do? Shine." _

**_– Yvaine: Stardust_**

Thorn was alone, alone and in the dark, and there was always that fire, that blinding pain eating at him. He whimpered, lashing out, struggling, and begging to be released from it all. He roared into the dark, but he could not hear himself. And always he was looking, reaching, trying to find the partner-of-his-soul-forever-Murtagh. He was alone! Where was he?

Suddenly, he could see the faint glow of light, each a tiny pinprick in the darkness. With the light falling on him, Thorn could see his body. He was curled into a ball with his tail between his legs with his wings surrounding him like a shell, his head tucked against his body. Cautiously, Thorn lifted his head and folded his wings away so he was lying on his back. It was night, he could see that and when he looked down, he could not see the break-bone-ground underneath him, but yet, he was not flapping his wings, he was not flying, he was simply…floating in a Netherworld. B it wasn't a complete Netherworld. There were stars, millions of them, closer than he could have imagined. He had sometimes looked towards the skies from the black-city-Urû'baen and he wished he could have flown up and touched them. That was his fantasy, something he had deemed impossible. But here he was.

Thorn couldn't enjoy it because he was worried for Murtagh.

_Murtagh! _he cried out into the field of stars. He was roaring and struggling, trying to twist around and forever calling his Rider's name…. He tried to roar, but no sound came forth from his throat, no fire either. Thorn began to thrash even most earnestly, the gut-wrench-now-familiar-pain he was feeling forgotten. _What have you done? _Thorn howled. His words were directed towards Galbatorix, towards everything he had hated in life. He couldn't fully appreciate where he was at the moment; all that mattered to him was that he knew where Murtagh was. _Murtagh, _he choked finally. He was helpless and he felt constricted, as if walls surrounded him, it was he was in his before-world-egg again, semi-conscious. _There's no point in being here, _he whispered bitterly to himself. _No point at all._ He closed his eyes and he keened. He had lost Murtagh, that's all he could concentrate on. The stars twinkled behind him, their little slowly fading away….

_Thorn._

That voice, it was calling him from somewhere in the beyond.

_Murtagh? _he said hopefully, straining his ears.

_Come forth and return to the world, Thorn. Come back._

Thorn opened his eyes again, but he wasn't amongst the night skies anymore. It was night, the world was dark, but he could feel the connection he had with Murtagh once more and he purred happily, but something was wrong.

_Murtagh? _he queried once more. He tried to find his mind and enter, but a voice, the same one from the other place came forth.

_Don't. To venture in the mind of a dreamer is a dangerous thing. _

Thornlifted his head, the-scents-that-filled-the-world swamping his nose unlike they had done in the other place, the field of stars in which he had been. He was lying on the ground in a stone courtyard, his shining-ruby-red-flat-hard-scales were covered in dirt and mud, but he couldn't care for the less about that at the moment.

_Where is he? _Thorn demanded, rolling over onto his side. He caught sight of another dragon lying beside him and he recognized her scent instantly. _Saphira, please tell me where Murtagh is, _he showed her with images of his Rider and how he felt.

_He is resting, _she replied, _in the Keep. It took Eragon four days to recover. You have been lying here for just under a day, it is almost dawn now._

_Dawn, _he mumbled. But again, just like the stars, he couldn't enjoy it. _What has happened to Murtagh? Where is he? Is he alright? _Thorn asked Saphira.

Saphira's eyes were impassive. _He is hurting, _she said finally. _Since you have just woken, I thought it would be best to block his pain whist you are recovering._

_And do you feel it? _Thorn asked.

She nodded slowly. _Saphira! _Thorn cried, baring his teeth at the same time. _How could you do that? And especially for me? After what happened! I wouldn't be surprised and almost grateful if you hated me for it. _

Saphira's sapphire-see-through-eyes were hard and she raised her tail. _If the Varden are to win this war, _she said, _we cannot brood on the past._

_The Varden? Aren't we against them?_

_Thorn, can't you feel it? You're free._

_But what about Murtagh? _Thorn asked, panic creeping into his voice. _The pain…. It's not right that you should take on the burden of it. Give it to me. I am bonded to Murtagh and his pain should be mine also. It's not right, and I am the least of all people who you should be doing this for. Any pain the-partner-of-my-soul-Murtagh feels I shall suffer with him. What kind of dragon would I be if I didn't look after my Rider? As you are there for Eragon, I will be there for Murtagh, now remove the barrier._

_No—_

_Do it! _he roared at her, struggling to his feet at the same time. His chest was heaving and such anger blazed within him; His heart was bursting with love and worry for Murtagh.

Saphira was silent and slowly, the mental contact she had with Thorn was slowly released. Suddenly, it was pulled away sharply. Thorn hissed and his knees buckled as the pain began again. _Murtagh, _he choked. _I will be here for you, always, no matter what. I had no one for years when I was in my egg, waiting for you to come, and now you are here and we are both on our way to freedom, I shall not let you go from me, for you are the thing that is most precious to me._

_I'll be here for you, Murtagh, and I always will._

* * *

**IT **WAS THE day after that the bone-bending-pain finally started to slacken its grip. Thorn had struggled silently with it, determined not to abandon his Rider only to escape from it. Where was he now? Where was Murtagh? Thorn swallowed hard and he lay quiet for a few minutes, waiting for the last of it to go, to leave him and Murtagh alone forever.

_Murtagh? _he whispered into the yawning silence.

There was silence, but Thorn felt Murtagh's whirling-ever-changing-thoughts quieten for a few seconds. Thorn cradled Murtagh's consciousness close to his own, brushing gently along the edges of it. Thorn was hungry, and if to demonstrate the point, a loud grumble pierced the air.

_Finally, _a voice grumbled.

_Saphira? _Thorn asked hopefully. Thorn opened his eyes and saw the glitter-scales-green-dragon where Saphira had been lying previously. Thorn was sizing him up slowly. He was a fraction smaller than him and more willowy, but his teeth and claws were sharp; he was no soft minded youth. _Where is she? _Thorn asked. _Where is Murtagh?_

_And why do you need to know? You are the enemy._

_Do not cheek me, hatchling, _Thorn snapped. _I may be weak now, but I can overpower you with no problem. _

The green dragon regarded him coolly and his tail snapped through the air as he flicked it from side to side.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

_Why? _Thorn growled.

_You hurt Saphira, _the dragon replied.

Thorn roared, surging to his feet and he swiped at the dragon, razor-dagger-sharp-talons outstretched and eyes ablaze. Thorn felt them come into contact with hard scales and the dragon hissed, flaring his wings at the same time, the thumbs caught Thorn on the side of his neck, gouging deep wounds in between the scales. There was a sudden jolt from Murtagh and his consciousness was ablaze with light and life.

_Murtagh! _Thorn cried out, the wound on his neck forgotten.

The green dragon was limping, ruby blood dripping down one of his shoulders.

_Thorn? _Murtagh said groggily.

Thorn turned back to the dragon once he was sure Murtagh was safe from any harm. _Do you think I _wanted _that, runt? _Thorn snarled.

_What's happening? Who are you talking to? _Murtagh said.

_Stay out of this, _Thorn said gently but firmly.

The smaller-than-him-dragon was quivering from head to tail and his upper lip was curled in a warning snarl.

Thorn turned away, raised his wings and flapped. _Murtagh! _Thorn followed his partner's mind and was frustrated when he found that it was in the very heart of the Keep.

_I'm coming, _Murtagh called to him.

Thorn soared around the building and he felt the-partner-of-his-soul coming towards him, running, coming ever closer. _Murtagh! _Thorn roared. Thorn landed on the battlements of the Keep and he waited for Murtagh. Thorn heard the pattering of footsteps and he saw him! There he was, running towards him. Thorn shoved his nose into the see-through-window, breaking the glass and wishing he could push his whole body through the window, but his neck soon stopped his extent.

_Thorn! _Murtagh ran into Thorn nose and wrapped his arms around it.

_Murtagh, _he purred, licking his Rider gently with the tip of his tongue so not to harm him. He was humming and the sound filled the corridor.

_You're alright, you're safe, _Murtagh said.

_And you are as well, _Thorn whispered to him.

There were more footsteps behind Thorn and he roared with rage when a sharp-ended-stinging-thorn-pike came and jabbed him in the nose, driving him off. Hands had come around Murtagh's shoulders and tore him away from Thorn.

_Murtagh! _he screamed in alarm. Snarling with the effort, Thorn placed one of his feet by his neck and pulled away at the wall to make a wider gap for himself. Stone screeched and tumbled into the unknown. _Let him go! _Thorn roared at the guards, tearing into their minds and letting his entire wrath out on the two of them. One cried out and clamped his hands over his hear-through-ears, releasing Murtagh's arm at the same time. The other one screamed and his grip on Murtagh's shoulder and other arm tightened all the more. Murtagh grunted in pain and tried to pull away from the guard, but he was still too weak from his ordeal.

_Thorn, help me, _he shouted.

_I can't get to you, you're too far away, _he cried, tearing away more of the stone masonry and whining at the same time. _I can't use my fire either because you'll get hurt. _Saying this, he tried even more to wriggle towards his Rider. He had gotten one of his shoulders through the gap, brick dust stinging the wound on his neck. Thorn would not let this mere two-legged-weak-minded-human take Murtagh away from him again; they had been separated for too long now.

"Get off of me!" Murtagh snarled at the guard.

Thorn pushed against the wall and the stone groaned underneath the pressure he was applying to it and he pushed against the guard's mind. Eventually, Thorn yanked hard at a tendril of twisting thought and the guard's arm slackened instantly.

Murtagh kicked him in the shins for good measure and sprinted towards Thorn. _I got past them before because they were standing outside of my quarters, _Murtagh explained to Thorn. _I guess they must have followed me and attempt to bring me back just in case I hurt anyone._

_Just in case? _Thorn queried.

_Can't you feel it? _Murtagh asked in an astounded voice. _The freedom?_

There were sapphire-dragon-Saphira's words again, but Thorn had been too preoccupied with Murtagh's safety to really consider the point. He did feel _lighter _in a way and Galbatorix's words weren't cluttering his head anymore. Rubble crunched underneath his chin as Thorn shifted his head to a more comfortable position.

_Is this what freedom feels like? I don't remember, _he said. _I was so young when I lost it that I can't recall what it feels like, not being somebody's puppet._

There was a groan from the guard which Thorn had first disposed of and Murtagh turned his head as he got to his feet, trembling from head to toe. There was fear on his face and he backed slowly away.

"Why am I not dead?" he mumbled.

Murtagh heard him and turned away again. "Thorn and I are not cold-blooded murderers. That's Galbatorix's job, not ours," he said.

The guard clenched his jaw and stumbled forwards towards a pike which he had dropped before. Blood laced the tip and Thorn recognised it as his own.

"You murderers," he whispered.

"Don't you get it?" Murtagh said. "You said it yourself, if I were like Galbatorix, why are you still here? I would have killed you without a second thought."

"I have orders from Nasuada, when you awoke, we were to alert her straight away and not let you out of our sights. We are only following orders."

"And why can't I see my dragon?" Murtagh demanded of him.

"He is a beast, he can wait," the guard said flatly.

Thorn roared and Murtagh's eyes narrowed, his hands formed into fists. Murtagh opened his mouth to reply, his brow furrowing in anger, but Thorn beat him to it. _I am not a dumb animal, _he roared. _Did you expect me to be a common horse for someone to ride around on from city to city? Think again, for I am far more intelligent than you human beings. _

The guard had gone very white and he scooted away a few inches and said weakly, "Nasuada is expecting you."

Murtagh turned towards Thorn. _I don't want to be separated so soon after we were reunited, _he whispered.

_I'll meet you. Tell me where you are going and I will be there in a second, _Thorn said. Sadly, he turned away from Murtagh and saw the guard move behind Murtagh, crouching down to wake his companion at the same moment. Thorn extracted himself and leapt off the stay-in-building, angrily silencing his thoughts and quelling his rage.

Why?

Thorn landed where he had started to find the green dragon gone, Saphira was nowhere to be seen either. Thorn roared and ripped at the ground, spittle flying everywhere. He whined and started to pace around in circles. Why did they treat Murtagh and himself that way? Couldn't they see that he and his partner-forever-Murtagh were free?

_Bastards! _Thorn roared. _Why can't you just leave us alone? Why can't you understand that we are not part of that damned Empire? Why can't you understand that we are not evil, that we did not commit those sins because we wanted to? Why must you condemn us? And why can't you understand that we hate every man, woman and child who supports the King? It is not our fault, we are innocent._

_We are not evil._

* * *

**"AND **YOU ARE now free from him?"

"Yes."

"The both of you?"

"Yes."

"Can we trust you?"

"Ono kann."

Eragon nodded his approval and turned towards Saphira.

_Is it sound?_

_Aye, you can feel it._

_I know, I just wanted to be sure of it._

"Well?" Nasuada said, tapping her nails against the arm of her chair. The familiar clacking sound filled the room as she awaited Eragon and Saphira's answers. Eragon looked her straight in the eye and said, "They are free."

There was a collective sigh from around the room as people relaxed back into their seats. Murtagh looked relived, but Eragon wasn't as relaxed as the others. Nasuada voiced his worry a second later.

"So what about the Varden as a whole? Many fought and many more died at the Burning Plains. There were soldiers who also fought that day when you two," – she indicated Murtagh and Thorn – "came and fought against Eragon and Saphira for a second time. So then the problem is—"

"—will the Varden trust them?" Eragon finished Nasuada sentence for her and she nodded.

"Exactly. We would have a hard time explaining the situation to them. Murtagh," she said, turning towards him and he stiffened, his hands by his sides, "your situation is a difficult one, for you have been working for Galbatorix and are the son of a Forsworn. The Varden weren't happy last time we sheltered you in Farthen Dûr and many screamed for yours and Thorn's deaths when the battle for the city was over and done with and you two were our prisoners. Know that I cannot shield you forever, Murtagh, but I will do my best for as long as I can. Only you can win the hearts of the people. That I cannot do for you."

"I understand," Murtagh said. He seemed slightly broken to Eragon and he grimaced, sinking back into his seat at the same time.

"Everyone here is dismissed. I am sure that Murtagh and Thorn need rest after such a turning point in this war, and continuing to lecture them about their loyalties will not help the two of them to recover. I want this room emptied now," Nasuada said, force behind her words. Chairs scraped against stone as they were pushed back and the room began to empty. Eragon turned to look for Arya and saw her waiting by the door.

"Eragon." He turned and saw Murtagh looking at him and digging in his pocket at the same time. Eragon gave Arya a glance and she nodded. He walked towards Murtagh and came to stop a foot away from him. Murtagh's fist was clenched and Eragon saw a thin silver chain dangling out from his hand. "I—I meant to give this back to you. I took it the day you were captured and kept it for my own means." Murtagh held his hand face up and uncurled his fingers. A ring with a sapphire set into the surface gleamed from his hand and Eragon stared.

"Why did you take it?" he asked, reaching out and taking it from Murtagh, snapping the chain at the same time and putting it in his own pocket.

"I don't know. Galbatorix would have taken it from you and I knew it had been Brom's ring. I guess I was keeping it safe for you."

"Thank you, I was afraid I would never see it again, I thought Galbatorix would have taken it," Eragon said in a stunned voice. He slipped Aren onto his finger and the metal glinted in the torch light.

"I found the energy store," Murtagh confessed. Eragon stopped and looked at him. "I didn't touch it, I just left it as it was, since I know Brom held a special place in your heart; it was one of his last gifts to you. And I'm sorry."

"Why should you be?" Eragon asked.

"I took Zar'roc from you. Brom gave it to you and I hate that cursed sword. But it was my father's and it's my inheritance, and that ring is yours. I'm sorry for it, but I think you should have it—"

"Don't keep it, for I have Brisingr now and for me it would just be a painful memory to carry on my hip."

"You slew Durza with it though," Murtagh protested. "And it is also a painful memory for me, especially because of my back and—"

"It's yours. Since you gave me Aren back, I will give you Zar'roc. Take it and shed some light on the misery it has sown, get rid of those memories," Eragon said forcefully.

"I don't want it."

"And I don't either. Zar'roc belongs to you now. Even though it has a sad history, you won't find a better sword than that. Zar'roc is an elven blade, it won't let you down and it's better to wield a sword to use against your enemy than to be caught without one and be impaled by that same enemy."

Eragon turned away and fingered Aren. Memories of Brom came back to him and he clenched his fist.

"Tomorrow, I want to go and see Brom."


	59. Chapter 59 -- I Promise You

59

**I Promise You**

_I promise you, there is nothing I won't give._

_To see this through, return to soul to where it lives._

_ **– Nothing I Won't Give: Vic Mignogna**_

Damon was a thief; he couldn't deny that at all. He was crouched on his stomach, looking for his friend, Zamer, whom had gone off that morning to scout the area for intruders. Rocks were digging into Damon's belly and he was uncomfortable. Zamer had been gone for a long time now. The two had been up since the crack of dawn and now, the sun was well clear from the ground, the clouds showing themselves to be stormy grey for today.

Damon shifted himself once more. Two rocks were dislodged and fell down a small incline which was a couple of inches high, stopping in a shallow bowl. Damon ignored it because who would hear apart from an animal? They were of no concern to him. He heard more scrabbling and his head snapped up, every muscle in his body tensing so he was ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"Damon," came the soft whisper. Damon turned around to see another man crouching down and beckoning to him.

"Is it safe?" he asked in just as soft a voice.

"Aye. There's no one around."

"Good."

"But we'll have to move quickly. It shouldn't take much; just a handful and we can get out of here."

Damon heaved a sigh and got up quickly.

"Agreed, let's go."

Zamer helped him climb up from behind his hiding place and he cast a quick glance around. Nothing. It was to be expected now so it came as no surprise to Damon. This place was a long way away from Dras-Leona. It was a day and a half's journey on horseback and the only thing here was sandstone and wastelands. All that was, apart from the diamond.

Both he and Zamer agreed that it was made with powerful magic. They had come across the tomb by accident a couple of weeks ago just before the battle. They had watched the distant fires together that came from Dras-Leona which had barely been a week ago, glad that they had left the city before the fighting broke out. The two of them had been petty thieves for all of their lives, scrapping a living on the streets until they had discovered this place.

"It's a fantasy come true!" Damon had exclaimed. "It's just sitting there, almost _inviting _us to come and take all of that diamond!"

"And what about the man?" Zamer had asked in a nervous voice.

"We don't know who his is, and why do we care?" Damon had snapped. They had noticed the words scratched into the spire, but neither of them could read and with the light filtering through, the words would have been hard to make out anyway.

They crested the hill and there it was, a small spire on the hillside. Damon almost ran towards it he was so eager. He could hear the clink of money as it changed hands. He and Zamer would have comfortable lives to lead after this.

"Wait up!" Zamer cried from behind, scrambling after him also.

"We're gonna be rich, Zamer! Filthy rich!" Damon shouted. He clambered up the sandstone rocks, swearing under his breath when he grazed a knee, but he didn't care at that moment. There was the open window, just in front of him; all he and Zamer had to do was do what they had been doing for their whole lives: steal some of that material.

It was another few minutes before they crested the hill. Damon was panting hard along with Zamer because of the speed at which they had climbed up. Zamer dropped a pack he was carrying over his shoulder, saying at the same time, "I'll go and keep an eye out, you start getting some of this diamond. Remember that we don't need much to start rolling around in gold. Take about a fist full. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"I'll remember that, now go!" Damon hissed. Zamer nodded and went off towards a high point to keep an eye out for passersby. Damon reached down towards the pack and looked around inside. He found what he was looking for soon enough, a smooth rock which they had found at the bottom of a river and a short steel spike. Damon drew in his breath and sidled over to the tomb.

He could see an old man's face in the diamond and he looked peaceful lying there. There was a sword laid across his chest with his hands on top, guarding it almost. He had a hooked nose and flowing white beard and he always would. Damon proceeded to the foot of the tomb and placed the spike on the diamond, raised the stone above his head a brought it down. Again and again he tried until he was sweating slightly, even though it was a dismal day.

Wiping his brow and looking down, Damon was annoyed to see how small a scratch he had put into the diamond. He swore quietly and replaced the spike on the little dent. He brought the stone down again and again as fast as he could, sometimes seeing small flecks of diamond spinning off to the sides. They would pick those up later.

He was almost crying with frustration as how long it was taking and he felt like throwing his tools down and walking away. But then there was the reward for all of their hard work…. That was a tantalizing prospect; it was something to work towards after all.

"I think that a pickaxe would have been more useful for you."

Damon jumped and swung around.

"Zamer, what—?" he started angrily, but then he saw who was talking. It was not Zamer. Where was his friend?

"You're wondering where he is? Zamer that is," the man said. He wasn't quite a man, Damon realised, he was only just a boy really, no older than seventeen or eighteen at most.

"What have you done with him? And how do you know his name?" Damon replied angrily. The boy looked over his shoulder and Damon saw he was not alone. There were two others with him, a man and a woman. Zamer was slumped by their feet.

He wasn't unconscious, but there was an expression of fear on his face. Damon knew why as well. He recognised the man well enough, and the boy now he thought about it.

"Have you come to arrest us for stealing? Has your King got it in for common thieves such as us now?" he demanded.

"He is not my King," the blue Rider said softly. Anger was in his eyes and his fists were clenched. "Step away from my father. Now." It was a command, not a request. Damon's eyes widened and he looked back towards the tomb.

"He…"

"Yes," he growled. "Now stand away, and go. I did not come here for bloodshed. Go." The brown eyes were angry and Damon looked helplessly towards Zamer. Zamer staggered to his feet and the two of them ran, not looking back towards the Rider.

* * *

**"WHY **DID YOU let them get away without punishment?" Arya asked. Eragon's brow furrowed and he looked towards her.

"I did not come here to cause more death, and if I had punished them here and now, would I really be better than someone who enjoys another's pain? Besides, if I had taken the two of them back to Dras-Leona, they would have been put to death for stealing."

"It's still not right though," Murtagh put in.

"I have my own reasons," Eragon said. "Do me a favour and shut up please." Murtagh looked at him and he was silent. Eragon was grateful to Murtagh for that. Eragon could still see the thieves running from him and he was suddenly tempted to kill the both of them because of what they had done to Brom's tomb. They had tried to steal the diamond! He was with difficulty he curbed his desire. Instead he walked forward and laid his hand on the cool crystal.

He could make out the scratch the thieves had left on the diamond with his vision and he bared his teeth. Eragon moved his hand over the scratch and whispered words of power. His palm glowed and the diamond flowed over, hiding the dent again.

"I knew of the risk of thieves," he said quietly, "but it still disgusts me that people would do such petty things in order to gain some gold and status in this world." He raised his palm and said the words of power. The diamond appeared unchanged, but Eragon still continued to mutter in the ancient language for a few minutes. After he finished, he tried to place his hand on the tomb, and to his satisfaction, an invisible force stopped it half an inch from the diamond. He felt no drain from his energy reserves for he had made it so the wards would take the energy they required from the surrounding life.

Arya and Murtagh stood silently watching his every move.

"Father," Eragon murmured. "I…I know who your were to me in my life now, and I think I understand your motives on why you hid the relationship with had with eachother secret, but there is still a voice inside of me ask why you did it. I want to talk to you about it face to face, but that opportunity has passed the both of us by.

"I called you a fool sometimes, and I'm sorry, but you would still call me so." Eragon smiled to himself and looked towards the peaceful face beneath the shimmering crystal. "I'm not very good at putting my words together in a situation like this. When Ajihad died, I didn't know what to say, and it's the same here. A few months ago, I had an endless flow of questions I wanted answered by you and only you. Saphira tried to help me with that, but now I'm here, I've forgotten most of them. I hope you can hear me now, Brom. Like you've said on many such occasions, call me a fool for getting captured by the King, for serving him, and you may have even hit me over the head because of Arya, and I will not shy away.

"Saphira and Nasuada once told me to be aware of the promises I make because I would have to break some of them one day, and I have broken promises in the past even though I try my best to uphold them. But I will make this one: I will defeat him, Galbatorix. No matter if everyone in the Varden and in Alagaësia were to turn against me, or if Arya were to leave me, I will strive maybe for my whole entire life to kill him, even if I met my end on his blade or because of a careless accident. I shall try my best. I won't try to kill him, I will end this strife.

"Hear me, please," he whispered. Eragon had been crouching and as he straightened up, the muscles in his legs protested, but he didn't care. Arya eyes were solemn and Eragon felt his own eyes wet. He angrily wiped the tears away, retreating to her side at the same time. He took her in his arms and held her to him, never wanting to let go.

"I heard what you said," Arya murmured. "I heard your promise, and I will help you keep that promise as well. I will not leave your side, ever, neither me of Rámir."

_And I add myself into that pact, _Saphira said. She had been circling above with Thorn and Rámir whist Eragon had chased the thieves away, much to her displeasure. Now she tipped herself towards the ground, flaring her wings out a second later to catch herself and landing heavily on the sandstone which cracked under her feet. Turning her head towards the tomb, she walked forwards towards it, her eyes never leaving the diamond. Stopping only a few feet away, she hung her head over the diamond and closed her eyes. Saphira appeared to be a statue of sapphires as she stood there, not moving a muscle for many minutes. _There are not many more gifts I can give you, Brom, _she said finally. _But I too thank you. Without you, I would not have Eragon by my side, and I cannot imagine that. It was because of your efforts I was extracted from Urû'baen, otherwise I might still be in my egg in that thrice accursed castle of his. You have my eternal gratitude._

She raised her wings, brushing the tips as close as she could to the tomb and a low keening came from her throat. Two more thuds came from behind her as Rámir and Thorn landed. They were silent in the background, not daring to disturb Saphira in case she were to snap at them and drive them away. Both of the males were still, their nostrils quivering as they took in the scents around them. No one moved for a long while until Saphira straightened herself and backed away from the tomb, her keening a low hum of noise in the background.

Arya stepped forwards now and crouched down, whispering a few words in the ancient language. Her hair flowed over her back and draped across her shoulders as she knelt in front of the diamond. She slowly stood up after a while, her knees were stiff as she retreated and Murtagh swallowed, taking a couple of steps forwards before he stopped. He dug the tips of his boots into the ground before he said, "I'm sorry for what I thought of you. You have my apologies, Brom."

Saphira nudged the back of Eragon's head and he brought his hands up, hugging her face, never wanting to let go of her. He remembered Brom's dying words to him then, they came floating back to him and he looked down towards the hidden cave where they had fled after the Ra'zac had attacked them. _"Guard Saphira with your life, for without her it's hardly worth living." _

_I won't let you go, _Eragon said to her. _Neither you or Arya._

_I won't leave your side either, _Saphira said. Looking towards the grey skies, she said, _When I was up there, it looked like it was going to rain. We should go before we get caught in the downfall._

_I don't want to go yet, _Eragon said in a determined voice. _I won't leave Brom here again._

_He has moved on, Eragon. I do not want to go either, but Brom has found his own way in life and he is gone, there is no point in standing by a grave forever. You have a life and you must live it. Do not spend it mourning._

_But—_

_No buts, let's go._

Eragon walked around her side and pulled himself up into the saddle slowly. He did up the buckles on his legs at a painstakingly slow pace for he didn't want to go.

_You've done it before, _Saphira whispered to him, fixing him with her sapphire eyes.

_I didn't know then, _Eragon licked his face with the tip of her tongue, showing how much she wanted to stay, but Eragon could also feel her frustration.

_Even though you didn't know then, you can always come back whenever you want to. I will take you anywhere, _she said. _Now let us go._

Saphira took off, pumping her shoulders to gain the necessary height she required to fly. On the way up to the clouds, Eragon was swamped by all of his memories of Brom. Their desperate flight from Carvahall, the journey they had had together from their small village to Yazuac, the day they had broken into the Keep at Teirm with Jeod to find out any information they could regarding to Seithr Oil. Brom had taught his how to read and write, he had taught him swordsmanship, given him Zar'roc and had stayed by his side since the day he had died. Earlier memories came back to him as well as the newest ones. He remembered going to Carvahall when he was very small and seeing Brom for the first time that he could remember and asking Garrow who he was. Garrow had laughed and said, "That's Brom. He came here about three or four years ago and he is a storyteller." Eragon had thought he was a little frightening at first, but had then gotten used to his gruff voice and the smell of tobacco which constantly hung around the old man.

Other memories came back and Eragon smiled to himself, today seemed full of sad memories. One of when he had found a snake resting on Brom's doorstep on a summer day, soaking up the sun. It was a brown coloured snake.

That snake…. Death….

_Saphira! _Eragon cried out.

_Yes? _she replied. His chest was rising up and down rapidly and his words were trembling as he spoke.

_Do you remember when we went to Bullridge? That serpent?_

_How could I forget something so easily?_

_Mmm, but do you remember what it said?_

_'Find me in the place you despair' wasn't it? _she said.

_Aye, and then I didn't know what it meant, but there is one place which brings so much sadness to me, so much that one could call it despair. At the time, I was thinking of battlefields, of the resting places of Brom and of so many others who have died, _Eragon said excitedly.

_Do you think you have realised what exactly this serpent meant? _Saphira said sharply.

_I think so, but I'm not certain. I think…I think what it meant was somewhere I couldn't return to easily, not because of difficultly to get to or anything, but because of my emotional attachments to that place. _Saphira was silent as she turned it over in her mind.

_Carvahall? _she said. _Eragon, it sounds like it fits the snake's speech, but you can never know._

_We have to try, _Eragon said. _It may know things. Neither me, you, Murtagh or Thorn could harm that thing, so maybe it knows some valuable information_.

_And why would you trust a giant snake? _Saphira snapped.

_You're a giant lizard of sorts, _Eragon protested. Saphira growled from underneath him, small streams of smoke issuing from her nostrils and from between her teeth.

_Be careful about how to toss that around, Eragon._

_I'm making a point, _Eragon said.

_Point taken, _Saphira said grudgingly. _You know that even if you are right, Nasuada won't be letting you go so easily. Galbatorix is sure to be doing everything he can to get us back under his command. I have the thing he wants most in the world so he won't let us wander around freely doing whatever we please._

_I know, _Eragon growled, hitting his leg at the same time. _But we have to go!_

_Tell her that, _Saphira chuckled. _You refrained from mentioning that snake to her when we recovered from our ordeals, so why should she suddenly let us go with no worries at all when we could be keeping other information from her?_

_I'm thinking, _Eragon hissed.

_Well hurry then, I can see Dras-Leona and I guess we'll be there within a few minutes, _Saphira said.

* * *

**"YOU **WHAT?" NASUADA said sharply. She waved towards the guards that we positioned outside of the room and they closed the door. Nasuada waited to hear the latch click shut on the other side before she continued. "And why exactly do you want to go to your home town now? Do you know how much the Varden has sacrificed to get you and Saphira back, and now you come and push that away so you can satisfy your own curiosity?"

"This is not about satisfying our curiosity," Eragon said. His hands were clenched into fists and his fingernails were digging into his palms. He blocked out the pain they were causing him.

"I cannot let you go wandering off to heavens knows where when Galbatorix has lost his two greatest weapons. I have heard rumours from our spies in Urû'baen about his rage when he found out what has conspired at Dras-Leona. Urû'baen was filled with a sea full of blood on that day and fires raged within the city and the King's heart. I have even heard that he has issued Shruikan forward to search for you! Although I hate to admit it, but we have spies in amongst our ranks and if the King finds out that you have gone, then you'll be back in that castle within the week!"

"Will you at least listen you our reasons about why we want to go?" Eragon demanded.

Nasuada turned around to look him dead in the eyes before finally saying, "Then what are they?"

"When I was in Teirm for my first and only time, I met Angela the Herbalist and Solembum. Before I left, Solembum gave me some advice which was for me and only me, he said 'When the time comes and you need a weapon, look underneath the roots of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power seems insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls'. This snake which I mentioned earlier, I think it may be tied to the Rock or the Vault in some sort of way," Eragon recounted.

"I cannot let you go off in search for a giant snake only on the word of a werecat," Nasuada sighed.

"He was right once," Eragon said, pointing towards Brisingr on his hip. "So I am betting that he is right again about the Rock and the Vault."

"Eragon, as tempted as I am to let you go, I cannot," Nasuada said. "That is my final decision."

* * *

OMFG Nasuada, you bitch~ Don't you know the importance of this plot point? I mean, _jeez_~


	60. Chapter 60 -- Homeward Bound

60

**Homeward Bound**

_But I'm so far, so far from home _

**_– For You Only: Trading Yesterday_**

_A__re you ready? _Saphira asked him.

_Ready as I'll ever be,_ Eragon replied. He tightened the last strap to his pack and sighed, placing his hands on his hips. _It doesn't feel right to be running away._

_What choice do we have? I am sure that you're right about this serpent¸ _Saphira said.

Eragon picked up his pack and proceeded to the door, cracking it open an inch to see if anyone was outside. It was deserted and he crept along the corridor, stiffening and throwing himself against the wall when a patrol of four soldiers came past.

_Damn, sneaking out of this place might be harder than first thought, _Eragon said to Saphira and she agreed. She, Thorn and Rámir were waiting on the roof for him, Arya and Murtagh and that was their meeting point, then they would fly away from Dras-Leona and onto Carvahall. That was the plan anyway. They were going to meet up there so they would be less likely to be caught getting up there. Eragon closed his eyes and started to whisper strings of words in the ancient language, closing his eyes and delving into the power. Saphira allowed him some of her energy as his body shimmered and vanished. It was the same thing he had done on the way back from Helgrind. Although his body appeared invisible when he was still, when he moved, the air rippled as the spell struggled to keep up with his body movements.

Eragon padded along the corridor and was about to round a corner when he almost walked head first into someone. He had been so busy keeping his mind shielded from unwanted eyes that he had failed to notice the woman coming towards him. Eragon tried not to scream in rage when he recognized the black hair and brown eyes.

_What's she doing here? _Eragon wondered.

_I don't know, _Saphira said, _but she has a lot to answer for._

Monica was ridged as if she sensed something, her eyes wide and Eragon could hear her heart beating fast in her chest.

"I know someone's there," she whispered. Eragon said nothing and pressed himself further into the wall. "I can sense your consciousness slightly," Monica continued, looking all around her and focusing on the shadows. She was looking in the opposite corner to where Eragon was standing and he relaxed slightly. Monica whirled around and fixed her eyes directly on Eragon. He didn't move and inch and hugged the wall. He held his breath as Monica walked past him down to the end of the corridor and only let it out when she had disappeared from view.

_Dammit, she wasted a lot of time, _Eragon cursed. He slipped out of his hiding place and continued on his way.

_Hurry, _Saphira suddenly said.

_I'm trying to get through unnoticed here! _Eragon shot back.

_One of the guards discovered your room was empty; something like the door was slightly ajar. _

_You've got to be joking, right? _Eragon asked.

_It doesn't matter, get here quickly, Arya just arrived. _

Eragon jogged the rest of the way and he climbed out of a window to see Saphira waiting for him on the roof.

_Is Murtagh here yet?_ he asked.

_No, _Saphira said.

Arya was mounted on Rámir and his wings were half spread to keep his balance on the roof top. He was growling slightly. Thorn's eyes were fixed on the window, his tail flicking back and forth as he waited for his Rider. Eragon went over to Saphira – who was wearing her saddle – and put his belongings in the saddlebags quickly. Then he swung himself up onto her so he was perched in his usual seat.

_Now all we can do it wait, _Eragon said.

_Yes. Murtagh had better hurry or we'll get found out soon, _Saphira said.

As soon as she said it, Eragon heard light footsteps from inside and he looked up quickly. Thorn pushed his nose towards the window and Eragon saw with some relief Murtagh climb through.

"What took you so long?" Eragon asked.

"Damn guards," Murtagh answered. "Come on, let's go." Murtagh hurriedly put his bags away and climbed up Thorn's side.

"Where are you going?" a voice cried. Eragon cursed and he saw Monica at the window, clutching the sill and her eyes wide. "Tell me!"

"That is none of your business!" Eragon cried, slashing an arm through the air. Monica stepped out onto the roof and put her arms out of either side of her so to keep her balance.

"Tell me please!" she said.

"I can't, now go back," Eragon growled.

"Tell me; otherwise I'll call for the guards again." Eragon gritted his teeth and Arya straightened her back.

"Enough of this. Everyone knows the story of what happened last time and you'll do no such thing again!" she shouted.

"Oh but I will if you don't answer my question," Monica threatened. "Tell me!"

"No."

"Tell me now!"

"I have given you my answer and I shall say it again: no."

"Gua—!" she screamed, but her shout was cut short. Monica stumbled backwards, falling onto the roof and she looked down at her chest. An arrow protruded from it, the fletching fluttering in the gentle night breeze. Murtagh's arm was still up, a bow in his hand when Eragon had realised what had happened and he was frozen with shock, his brain wheeling. Blood dribbled down her chest, soaking into the material of her woollen dress. "How?" she whispered in a dazed voice. She wasn't breathing anymore and her eyes were glazed over, as if she couldn't feel it. Monica fell to her knees.

"No!" Eragon shouted, his jaw finally becoming unstuck as Monica slipped and fell off the roof, the light fast fading from her eyes.

"Quickly! Go!" Murtagh bellowed. Thorn took off from the roof, followed closely by Rámir and shortly by Saphira. Eragon still felt slightly bewildered about what had happened, it had been so quick. He hadn't felt any emotional attachment for the woman, but Murtagh had had no reason to kill her.

_Eragon, stop it, _Saphira snapped.

_There was no reason for Murtagh to kill her, _Eragon said.

_The dead stay dead, it has happened, _Saphira said. _Eragon, I still haven't forgiven her for what happened at Urû'baen. _

Eragon's hands tightened as he thought about what Saphira had said and what had happened to her.

_You're right, _he said finally. _It was better for her that she had died._

* * *

**MONICA'S **DEATH STILL troubled Eragon slightly as they flew over Leona Lake. Even though the women had been downright annoying, it still didn't sit right with him about how Murtagh had shot her. Murtagh was refusing to let Eragon into his mind despite his attempts and kept his mind shielded from everyone apart from Thorn. He wondered if Murtagh was thinking about Eragon's reactions as to when he had killed Torkenbrand, and whether a similar outburst would happen now. Eragon would talk to Murtagh later when they landed and he made himself a mental note. He hunkered down in the saddle and hugged Saphira's neck, looking back over his shoulder at the same time towards the now shrinking Dras-Leona.

_Do you think we made the right decision by running away? _Eragon asked of Saphira.

_If it helps us win this war and your guess is correct, then I think it is worth it, _Saphira replied. _Even though I understand Nasuada's reasons for wanting to keep you and I close to her, I couldn't fully agree with her that we can't leave her sight for more than a day at most. She is too paranoid. _

_She only wants the best for the Varden, _Eragon said.

_I know, but this is one decision which is better for us to make, _Saphira insisted.

_I just really hope we can get something out of it, _Eragon said.

_I can tell you're tried. Sleep if you want, there are still many hours of the night ahead of us, _Saphira said.

_Will you be alright?_

_I'll be fine._

* * *

**NASUADA **STOOD AT the window and looked out into the night. She was in her night dress and she was breathing heavily through her nose.

"Did no one see the three of them? No one at all?" Nasuada snapped at one of the guards.

"No ma'am. I'm sorry."

"They must have hidden themselves with magic, curse them," Nasuada hissed. "Can you tell what happened at all?"

"Yes ma'am," the guard continued. "Using magic, the magicians were able to vaguely reconstruct the scene. There were four people up here."

"Four?" Nasuada asked sharply.

"Aye, four of them. There was blood on the roof when we went out to investigate and soon after that was discovered; a body was found at ground level."

"Can you tell who it was?" Nasuada asked.

"Yes. From Shadeslayer's description, we believe it to be the woman he spoke of at Urû'baen, brown eyes and black hair, maybe late twenties. There was an arrow in her breast, ma'am. Again with magic, the spellcasters were able to identify it as belonging to the red Rider."

"So, Murtagh was the one who killed her," Nasuada murmured. She looked away and began to stare off into the distance, thinking. Why did Monica have to die? Was it simply because of a grudge, because of what Monica had put Eragon through? Then why was it Murtagh who had shot her? Unless it had been Eragon using Murtagh's weapons. She sighed and rubbed her temples. "This is going to be one long night," she muttered. But the question which plagued her mind the most was why the Riders needed to get away so badly. Eragon had said it had been on the advice of a werecat, but Nasuada hardly believed in any prophecies, they were a waste of time. She was a practical woman who had no time, or patience, for magic.

"Milady, will be returning to your rooms? There is only so much you can do at a time like this," the guard asked and Nasuada came out of her trance.

"Yes…. There will be no point in chasing after the Riders; no one can beat a dragon in flight. I know Eragon; he'll contact me if he's found anything."

* * *

**ERAGON **WAS STIFF and uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and found himself leaning back in the saddle, head lolling and he straightened himself, groaning as his back protested.

_Are you feeling any better? _Saphira asked, leaping into his mind.

_I feel rested if that's what you mean, _Eragon said.

_Yes, but now you have your back to worry about._

_Where are we anyway?_

_We just passed over Fläm Lake since you were asking. If we continue at this pace, we'll be in Palancar Valley in a few hours._

_But you must be exhausted!_

_I am tired, but not as tired as I was when I flew to Farthen Dûr. If I can make that trip in three days without sleep, then I can definitely make it to Carvahall. Don't worry yourself, Eragon, I'm fine._

_At least let me give you some energy from Aren._

_There's no need for that, _Saphira said. _You will need that energy for later in the future, you might need it at any given moment, so don't waste it._

_It won't be wasted, _Eragon said stubbornly. Saphira started to chuckle from underneath him.

_You worry about me too much, little one, _Saphira laughed.

_Like you don't worry about me._

_You need looking after, _Saphira pointed out.

_I don't!_

_You do, you won't budge me on that one. _Eragon glared at the back of her head and she rolled her shoulders. She flapped faster and Eragon grabbed the spike in front of him as she sped through the air. Rámir and Thorn huffed before accelerating too to keep up with the sapphire dragon. Eragon lay down on her back and the wind whistled in his ears and ruffled his hair.

_Won't you wait for the others? _Eragon asked.

_I have never waited for any other dragons, for I am the predator of the skies! I bow to no one and this is my domain! _Saphira roared and she twisted over. Eragon laughed and let go of her spike and closed his eyes, enjoying the rushing wind and Saphira's happiness that flooded through his being. _We haven't done that for a while now, _Saphira said, slowing down once more and dropping around two dozen feet to get on the same level as the other dragons. She was quite now and Eragon rubbed her side.

_That was Galbatorix; it's not like that now. Everything will be alright._

_I hope so, for yours, your family's and my children's sakes, _Saphira replied.

_I hope so too, you weren't feeling well this morning, I could feel it through our bond._

_It's not I can't handle._

_But are you sure you should be flying when you're in this state?_

_Did we just fight in a battle, win and break away from a mad King? Yes, so what makes you think I can't handle a flight like this? _Saphira asked him. _Have something to eat as well. Get some of that sourdough bread back there._

As Eragon was rummaging around in Saphira's saddlebags, he came across a tightly wrapped bundle and he stopped, and then laid his hand over the cloth.

_Eragon?_

_Arya put Glaedr's Eldunarí in the bags, _he said. There was a dull glow coming from it and Eragon took his hand away from the heart of hearts. _I haven't spoken to him yet._

_Leave him be. Even though it's been months, losing your partner is something you can never fully recover from._

_But wallowing in self pity is not a way to live, _Eragon snapped at her.

_Just ask yourself this: what would you do if I died? _Saphira asked in a strained voice. Eragon took the point and instead broke off an end of the bread and munched on it in a distracted way.

_Alright, I get it. It's just…Galbatorix muddling with my thoughts._

_I understand, I went through the same thing. That's alright sometimes you know, you don't have to hide it._

_I wasn't trying to._

_I know, but it's alright to be confused. From what I have learned from you and from observation, you males always keep your deeper feelings to yourselves. You don't have to act tough all the time, I'm here for you, you can lean on me, and on Arya, and Roran, and all of your friends. _It was the undeniable dragon logic from her and Eragon rubbed the back of his head.

_I just don't want people to worry._

_I worry all the time about you, _Saphira chuckled, nudging him with her thoughts. _Eragon, I waited for over one hundred years for you to come along, and then you try to hide your emotions from me. One lesson which our masters drilled into our brains is that when we hide things from each other, we can never truly be a pair, they proved that when we first started to train under them. Don't dirty that bond, Eragon, you have been given the opportunity most would die for, so don't discriminate it._

They spent the morning talking and landed once to refill their water skins and to stretch their legs before taking off again and continuing their journey across North-East Alagaësia. When they passed over Utgard, or Ristvak'baen as the Riders called it, the 'Place of Sorrow', Eragon remembered when he had first set eyes on the ancient sanctuary and how it was here that Vrael met his death at the hands of Galbatorix. He would have to stop by here one day for a proper visit. Eragon could just make out the winding road which led around the mountain's base where he and Brom had passed more than a year ago.

_To think that I would be back here now, a year and thinking about how annoying Brom could be sometimes and just wanting him to be quiet, _Eragon thought. It was late afternoon when they flew over Therinsford but Eragon had no eyes for the place, his gaze was fixed on the horizon where the place of his birth was waiting for him just over that ridge. Suddenly, Eragon wondered what he would do once they landed in less than half an hour's time, what would it be like? Probably like his farm had been, overgrown with weeds and plants, a few beams of timber reaching up to the heavens and rubble on the air along with the faint smell of smoke. _I won't cry, _he told himself, but he doubted his own words.

_Eragon? _Saphira asked him.

_Leave me be for a little bit, _he said, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. _Please, _he added afterwards, realising how he had sounded to Saphira.

_It's your home and it's now gone, I understand what you must be feeling. Your emotions are flooding over our bond and I can feel your sorrow and agony, _Saphira said. _Remember, I am your shoulder to lean on._

_Thank you, _Eragon said. They were silent the rest of the trip as they rounded the forests hiding the village from view and Eragon could hear the familiar pounding of the Igualda Falls in the far distance and he could see the twisting form of the Anora River far below him, and then he saw the village. It was nothing more than a ashen blotch on the land anymore with the remains of a trench circling it. Wild flowers grew within the rubble and the faint smell of wood smoke hung in the air.

Saphira's wings kicked up the ash as she landed and Eragon slid off of her. He was silent for a little as he gazed around the scene and then he fell to his knees. So this was one of the prices he had to pay for hiding her. First it had been his uncle's death, and then he had been forced to run away and through those events, Brom's death. He clenched his fists and the ash dribbled between his fingers and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"It's gone, it's all gone," he croaked. "I saw it in the mirror, but it's…it's so hard for me to see it with my eyes." He looked up and saw a pack of wolves watching him. Maybe they were the same wolves he had seen in the mirror in Ellesméra? "Get away!" he screamed. He lurched to his feet and his palm began to glow.

_Eragon._

"Leave me alone!" Eragon shouted at her. "Just leave me be!"

"Eragon!" He whirled around to see Arya looking at him from Rámir's back and her eyes were wide. He froze and she descended from her perch.

"I…I'm sorry," he whispered. He took Arya into his arms and kissed the top of her head, looking around the devastated scene and more tears rolled down his face. "It's gone," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Arya whispered. Murtagh's eyes were sorrowful as he and Thorn looked on the scene from the side. Thorn sidled over to Saphira and sat down by her. Rámir threw him a filthy look before doing the same, as if male dragons were fighting over the female one. Saphira didn't care for she was more concerned about her Rider than either of the dragons that were closing in on her.

_Ssso, you came. _Eragon looked up when he heard the hissing voice. _Above you. _There was the serpent again, but this time it did not appear alone, it was encircled around an ancient and roughly cut stone which was just as transparent looking as the snake itself.

_Why did you bring us here? _Eragon asked.

_I told you to find me back there, and ssso you have, _the snake said, its poison green eyes locking on Eragon's brown ones. Coil by coil, the snake unwound itself and began to swim through the air towards the dragons and Riders before touching the ground. It became solid looking and Arya's hand flew to her sword.

"Leave it," Eragon muttered to her. "You can't harm it."

_So I was right then, in assuming that this is what you meant by coming back to the place I despair? _Eragon asked of it. The snake leered at him and towered above them.

_Yesss, you were correct._

_Then what are you?_

_You already know, deep down in your heart, you know who and what I am._

_Say it, so I can confirm by own suspicions._

The green eyes blinked and the tail twitched.

_You came here on the advice given to you by a werecat many monthsss ago: 'When the time comesss and you need a weapon, look underneath the rootsss of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all ssseems lossst and your power ssseems insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and ssspeak your name to open the Vault of Sssouls'. _

_How do you know that? _Eragon asked.

_I am an immortal, a creature of nightmaresss and fairy talesss, a creature of magic and the messsenger of Death, I have my waysss, _the serpent replied.

_Have I done the right thing by coming here and leaving the Varden? _Eragon asked.

_You anssswer that yourssself, _the snake hissed. _You brought company, I sssee. It'sss good that many can eneter the Vault at the sssame time then, no?_

_The 'Vault'?_

_Have you not guesssed? _the snake asked and in its eyes danced a wicked glee. _I gave you my titlesss, Death'sss Pet, Ssspirit Guardian, but I did not give you my name. _It grew bigger and it's eyes glowed emerald green.

"Eragon! What's happening?" Arya cried, drawing her sword and pointing it at the snake as it reared its head.

_Eragon Bromssson and Sssaphira Bjartssskular, Arya Dröttningu and Rámir Flametongue, Murtagh Morzanssson and Thorn Crimssson Wingsss, I am Kuthian, and thisss is my Rock, the connection between thisss world and the ssspirit world, the Vault of Sssouls._


	61. Chapter 61 - The Gate Between the Worlds

61

**The Gate between the Worlds**

_With reluctance, they gave her up and Kitty passed through the Gate to the other side. _

**_– Ptolemy's Gate: Jonathan Stroud_**

Eragon had suspected what the great serpent was, but even so, he was shocked. His eyes were wide and he fists trembled as he met the snake's eyes.

_Your power isss overssshadowed by that of the falssse king, _the snake hissed. _And the werecat told you to come to me, ssso here you are. Do you not want to proceed with what he sssaid? To enter the Vault?_

_And why should I trust you? _Eragon asked.

_Why should any of us? _Saphira put in, prowling forwards and flaring her wings.

The snake, or Kuthian as it claimed to be, eyed her flatly and opened its mouth somewhat. _There isss no point in trying to fight me, dragon, or have you not learnt your lessson from lassst time? _Saphira paused, it had a point.

Eragon stepped forwards to confront the serpent, but Saphira placed her leg in his path. _What are you doing? _she hissed.

_I … I don't think it's lying, _Eragon said slowly.

_You just said a minute ago that you didn't trust it though!_

_But … there's something about it which suddenly seemed trustworthy though, maybe it's logic._

_Screw that damned logic for now, it could be a trick! A trap of Galbatorix's making! Do you want to so blatantly hand yourself over because of blind trust?_

_Whatever that snake is, it's not an apparition, it's a being of consciousness, bound and sustained by magic like the dragon tattoo at the Agaetí Blödhren, isn't that enough?_

_I won't lose you because of something as stupid as this. That bastard King has hordes of Eldunarí at his fingertips, so it wouldn't be too difficult for him to disguise this snake._

_But do you know how this has been done?_

_I don't know, but when there's a will, there's a way. _Saphira growled softly in her throat as her brilliant blue eyes locked on Eragon's brown ones. She turned her back on the snake and towered over her Rider, exposing her teeth at the same time. _I can't let you go. The hero always seems to want to walk into something alone, without his friends, without his family, or anyone. But they will follow, so if you think that you can step forwards by yourself and shoulder this alone, then you are poorly mistaken._

_I wasn't saying anything like that! _cried Eragon.

_You were getting to it. _Eragon glared at his dragon and attempted to step around her once again. She let him past this time, but Eragon could feel her reluctance at letting him step headfirst into danger.

Kuthian lowered his head to Eragon's eye level and flicked his tongue out. _It isss unwissse for you to sssuddenly trussst me; you mussst be fool to do ssso._

_Then consider me a fool, _Eragon replied in a flat voice. _I have been a fool many a time in the past and yet I have pulled out of a situation, no matter how deep._

_One day, your luck will run out and the tidesss of fate will change. Why do you trussst me so sssuddenly?_

_You let us go once when could have easily snapped our backs without so much a second's thought and not lost any sleep over it, and here I stand before you now, but you have not made an gesture or move towards me which suggests that you were trying to kill us. _He spread his arms out on either side of him and took another step forwards. _Here I am, my guard down and offering you my life, yet you do not strike._

_Do not push your luck, Rider, _Kuthian hissed. _But you are ssso dangerousssly brave to be challenging me thusss, so I will offer you sssafe passsage through the Door._

_The Door? _Eragon questioned.

_The Door to get into the Vault. Isss thisss not your heart'sss desire? To dessstroy the Demon King and free your country and your people? To essscape the ssspotlight ssso you can finally be free of all of thessse burdensss thrussst upon you because you couldn't bring yourself to kill a sssmall dragon hatchling? _

Eragon shuddered as Kuthian addressed his past acts. How had the great snake known about his most inner and private thoughts about when Saphira had hatched and how he had stared down at the helpless animal struggling on the forest floor, entangled in a leather lead a lifetime ago?

Eragon bit his lip and broke the eye contact. _I want that very much._

Kuthian coiled in on himself and seemed to be smirking at Eragon. _Only once in your lifetime may you enter the Vault through the Gateway, only once and no more until you reach death. Three people you may call upon once inssside the Vault, may they be man or beassst._

_I understand._

_Choose wisely, Rider, for if you make a mistake, you shall not receive your chance back again._

_I understand that also. _Eragon turned to face Saphira and she snaked her head forwards and rested her jaw on his palms. _Saphira, are you ready?_

_Forever._

Eragon turned back to Kuthian and watched as the stone he had been coiled around before descended out of the skies, growing bigger the whole while and more dense. It hovered a few feet from the ground and as Eragon watched, a blinding ray of light spilt the very center of the rock and extended downwards as if a knife were cutting through the rock.

Light brighter than the sun's rays bloomed over the landscape and Eragon turned back to Murtagh and Arya. "Stay here, Saphira and I may be a while."

"Why can't we come with you?" Arya demanded.

_Becaussse I sssay ssso, _Kuthian hissed.

_Eragon. _He recognized Glaedr's voice and his consciousness as it touched his own. _I heard what was said and you only have three people whom you are allowed to call upon. Do not call for Oromis._

_Why not?_

_His knowledge lives on in me and it would be a waste of a choice to call him. Please listen to me, the fate of Alagaësia rests upon your decision. Promise me that, my pupil._

_I … I promise._

_Good. May the wind rise under your wings and hurry back to the light of dawn after this is over, for you have loved ones waiting for you on this side of the world as well as those who lie in Death._

_We will come back, master, _Saphira said, bowing her head in submission.

Eragon laid a hand on her side and taking a deep breath, started to run to the light. Saphira kept pace with him all the way and ten feet from the rock, she leapt forwards. Eragon did the same and as they sailed through the air, the light enveloped them and Eragon was blinded.

Saphira roared from beside him and Eragon knew why. He shouted in pain as his body exploded with it, a raging fire within his muscles and bones that eat away as his very being and his twisted. _Saphira! _he screamed. He couldn't feel her mind against his, he couldn't feel anything as his body was consumed by the pain, and then, all of a sudden, it vanished.

* * *

**ERAGON **AWOKE SUDDENLY. He felt different, lighter almost just like the time he had broken away from the King and the first thing he noticed after that was an aching loneliness in his mind. _Saphira? _he whispered.

Nothing.

Eragon looked at his surroundings; it was white and a thin mist seemed to hang low to the ground by his feet, wafting away when he tried to touch it as if fleeing from his hand. He could see nothing in any direction apart from behind him where _something _was disturbing the air. Eragon knew somehow that it was the only way out of this place and he shouldn't leave yet; he had a job to do.

He became aware all of a sudden of something beside him, something heavy and alive. He wasn't alone in the nothingness after all. Eragon stretched out his fingers towards the something and they made contact with it.

It didn't feel like anything, it reminded him of water, but yet it did not feel like water, it wasn't wet, it wasn't hot or cold. It was just, dense really. But Eragon knew at one that it was her, his beloved Saphira and he cried out with joy. "Saphira!"

She stirred and opened her eyes, but they weren't sapphire blue like he was expecting them to be, they were silver and Eragon faltered. Then he noticed her scales; the deep blue he had come to know her as was gone, to be replaced by a semi-transparent white. The rest of her body was thus and Eragon looked down at his hands. Just like her, they had lost their colour and he gulped. What was this magic? Had he unknowingly doomed himself and Saphira to a yet undecided and unknown fate?

"Saphira?" he whispered.

_I'm here. _Her voice was far away and he choked as he realised he could still feel her warm conscious, but it was so very faint.

"Why can't I feel you clearly?"

_I don't know, little one, I don't know._

_Living creatures are made up of three different parts—_

Eragon jumped as the echoing voice sounded throughout the void and he looked around fearfully. "Who said that?"

—_the body, the mind, and lastly and most importantly, the soul._

"Where the hell are you, you snake?" Eragon sounded vaguely like Kuthian's voice and Saphira got shakily to her feet, she too hunting for the source of the voice.

_You cannot feel eachother because your mind has been stretched thin, connecting your body and soul together. It is because of this connection that you are still alive._

"Shut it and tell us where we are!"

_Frown upon this connect and snap the thread, you will die. The body you see is your soul, for your true body is somewhere else, suspended in time and space and once you leave this place, you will be reunited with it. This is the realm of spirits; the mortal flesh cannot exist here._

"Answer the damn question we're asking you!"

_You can stay here forever if you wanted to, but I doubt you do. When you are finished, walk towards the light and never again look back upon this place. Only three of the departed you may call upon._

"Kuthian!" Eragon screamed.

_Getting angry won't do anything, little one, _Saphira whispered, nudging him in the back. _Were you listening?_

_I was, but—_

_Then call them._

Eragon touched her between the eyes and tried to converse to her his emotions, to tell her that he was steady, that he was ready for this.

"I call you, Brom Holcombsson, Dragon Rider and my father, step forth," Eragon said, knowing the words instinctively and he waited in the silence. It didn't take long, a few seconds at most, and then the mist billowing across the floor began to rise twenty feet away from Eragon. It rose up a little taller than him and Eragon squinted as it began to take on a familiar shape, one of an old man with a hooked nose, a long silver beard and flowing hair. He was garbed in a flowing rode of white trimmed with edges of shimmering silver unlike any thread found in the living world.

Brom looked healthier than Eragon had ever seen him. Years had seemed to have been stripped away from him, his hair, although long, was shorter, there were less wrinkles lining his face and he stood taller than he had done in life. His eyes, like Saphira's, were pure silver and they travelled over the place until they spotted Eragon. The lips cracked into a wide smile and Brom strode forwards and embraced his son.

Eragon was ridged, but he too reached up and hugged the old man, closing his eyes at the same moment and his grip tightened on his back. "I'm sorry," he croaked after a long while. "I'm so sorry about what happened and what brings me here."

"It wasn't your fault." Brom's voice echoed unlike Eragon's, enforcing all the more that Eragon was still living and breathing, still warm and blessedly alive, whereas Brom had passed into the beyond, never to return to the mortal world. He would never feel the sun's touch again, or the biting cold of winter, or the here the whispering of leaves as they slithered over the ground in the autumn time, or hear the rushing of a creek in the spring. Eragon was thankful that he still had all of that.

"It was, I wasn't strong enough, I was careless and I left people to worry too much about me," Eragon choked.

"It wasn't your fault," Brom repeated. He broke away from the embrace and held on tightly to his son's shaking shoulders and looked him up and down. "You've changed so much over these past few months," he whispered.

"So much has happened," smiled Eragon serenely. "I still find it hard to believe half the time about what Saphira and I have been through all because of Galbatorix's vision of a 'greater good'. How can we not be touched by the scars of the past? How can we not have changed after all of this time, after what has happened to us?"

"By sliding backwards," said Brom.

"I won't, I've found my footing and instead of the ground crumbling underneath us, we will build on that rock and make ourselves stronger."

"That's the reason why you are standing before me, is it not?"

"It is." Eragon's eyes were burning and he stepped away from Brom and clenched his fists. "Even after being Galbatorix's weapon for months, I cannot get a firm hold on his actions and what he is like. He kept himself shielded in more ways than with just his mind, he would not talk much about his past and what he felt and thought, he wouldn't tell us anything about what he has been doing over the past fifty years after bending the Eldunarí to his will."

"You and your half-brother have gone through a lot, but even though I will tell you everything I know about Galbatorix, you will not have dug deep enough to uproot him," Brom told him.

Eragon had feared that to be the case and he bit his lip.

"Come, sit," instructed Brom. He sat down on the ground cross-legged and Eragon followed suit a few seconds later. Their legs were covered by the mist and Eragon found that a slightly strange experience. "Where should I start?" Brom mused. He scratched his beard and after replacing his hand on his knee, opened his mouth and began. "As you know, at the time Jarnunvösk died, his training wasn't complete, even though it was near, it was not fully done. He had heard rumours after the incident after his roaming about the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault where it was said that the living could meet and interact with their deceased loved ones. So, naturally, he began to search for this legend in the hopes of seeing his dragon again."

"He found it, didn't he?" Eragon asked in a low voice.

"That he did after many years of searching and study. He returned to the place where his dragon lay and summoned Kuthian. But he was ignorant of and ignored Kuthian's warnings, so after he had exited the Vault after seeing his dragon, he demanded to be let back in. The price for his ignorance was part of his sanity for Kuthian refused to budge and the sorrow and agony of never being able to see Jarnunvösk again tiped him over the edge, and it was because of that the Rider Wars started. But Galbatorix did not come away from his meeting with Jarnunvösk with nothing, she told him, for whatever reason which would probably remain unknown, about the Heart of Hearts of the dragons. Time passes differently in this place, so she might have believed that she could still reach her Rider through her Eldunarí, Galbatorix knew this could never be, so instead of using the Eldunarí of Jarnunvösk for good, as she no doubtedly wanted, he only saw the Eldunarya as a fuel source.

"It was after this incident that he took Morzan under him in an apprenticeship and took Durza by his side as well, and you know what happened afterwards: the Fall. He did not only eradicate the Riders, but collected the Eldunarí of each of his fallen foes, and, as Oromis has told you, Galbatorix spent something close to the next forty years bending the Eldunarya to his will, breaking many in mind and spirit at the same time. Some of them can't even form words now and only exist as a miserable being only capable of producing mass amounts of energy which are then consumed by Galbatorix."

"Murtagh mentioned that," Eragon said, tracing the crease lines on his trouser pants while he absorbed all of the information. "He said that some of them seemed to only flicker with the barest signs of life. He even said some of them had forgotten who they were or why they felt so sad and wallowed in sorrow; that they had forgotten about their life as a dragon, and about their friends, family, and even their Riders."

Brom's eyes were filled with pity and disgust and his brow furrowed. "Galbatorix doesn't care, as long as he has his sources of energy; he is unstoppable in his quest to have all of Alagaesia under his rule, the rule of an iron fist. Saphira herself proves that. Eragon, I know what happened at Urû'baen."

Eragon looked away and if it were possible, he knew his eyes would be wet. "It was barbaric," he hissed. "It's was something I will never forgive."

"But if there is one thing I should say, it is this: don't let your hate and anger turn into revenge. If you do so, everything which you pride yourself with being called a human being will vanish and there will only be animalistic thoughts, the driving fire inside of you would be hate burning and eating you from within. Don't take this as a warning from a foolish old man who is battered and confused in the head, I am telling you out of experience. I was driven mad with grief when my Saphira died and for years, all I felt was hate towards the person who had taken her away from me. Even though I am in Death's clutches, I haven't been reunited with her."

"What … what do you mean?" Eragon asked.

"She is still trapped within the mortal world," Brom growled. His clenched his fists and his brow tightened all the more on his robe.

Eragon was appalled.

"But now is not the time to be worried about that, for I trust you, Eragon," Brom continued. "These Eldunarya are understandably Galbatorix's most prized possessions, all eight hundred of them."

Eragon gaped at the number. "I know he had a lot, but I never guessed it to be at that number. Murtagh and I, even though I hated it, were given twenty five to share between us. I never used them, ever, because even though Galbatorix twisted me, I would never stoop so low as to feed off the energy of the Eldunarya."

"I am glad to hear you say that, my son," said Brom. "Because Galbatorix so highly values the Eldunarya, he keeps them under guard and is so paranoid about losing them in a way he has hardly ever strayed from his stronghold, Urû'baen. That, and the project which he has been to absorbed in over the last half century."

"The Name," Eragon whispered, recalling what the final Ra'zac had told him before he had killed it.

Brom bowed his head. "Yes, the Name."

"The name for what though?" Eragon hissed, banging his knee in frustration.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Brom asked. Eragon gaped; it was as if the old man was _laughing _at him.

"The Name?" Eragon questioned. "How the hell am I supposed to bloody know what it is?"

"Use your head," Brom said. He touched two fingers to his forehead to emphasis the point and then took them away. "What thing would allow Galbatorix to have total control over everything and everyone you have ever known and loved, what would allow him to gain whatever he wanted and to whatever price? What, in other words, is the almost all powerful thing in this world?"

The answer popped into Eragon's head and he cursed himself for being so blind in the first place. "The Name …. Galbatorix is trying to find … the true name of the Ancient Language, correct?"

Brom bowed his head once more in affirmation and Eragon's spectral stomach dropped.


	62. Chapter 62 -- Settling Differences

62

**Settling Differences**

_"Isn't the obvious, brother? You are a demon, I consider you a danger to us all." _

**_– Ao No Exorcist Chapter Three: Kazue Kato_**

"It's been two days now," Murtagh announced to no one in particular. He was beginning to grow worried for his half-brother and he kicked a piece of charcoal with his foot. It spun away, breaking into pieces as it hit the ground a few metres away.

_Eragon can look after himself, and so can Saphira, _Thorn told him, hoping to comfort Murtagh some.

_I know, but that Gate, it's giving off some sort of aura which I'm not comfortable with._

_I got that feeling too, but we have to trust Saphira and Eragon's judgement here._

_But it's things like that which can get people killed! _Murtagh snapped.

Thorn eyed him flatly from his resting position on the ground and he snorted, small jets of fire coming from his nostrils. _I'm worried for them too, especially for Saphira because of—_

_Don't remind me of that shit, _Murtagh hissed. _Please._

_If you insist, _Thorn huffed.

_What's the matter?_

_Nothing. _The dragon was distant with Murtagh, keeping a part of his mind blocked off from him and Murtagh prodded at it. Thorn slapped him away and Murtagh retreated.

_Have you seen Arya or Rámir around? _Murtagh asked, changing the subject.

_Nay, I last saw them at dawn._

_So a couple of hours ago then_

_Aye._

_Did either of them say where they were going?_

_No they didn't, but Arya asked me to look over the Gateway in case they came out._

_I pray that they will._

_They will, you'll see. _Murtagh had to applaud Thorn confidence for his own was falling rapidly. His dragon was so determined that Saphira was would make it out alright, that he would see her again, alive and healthy with the answer to this hundred years of struggling in her possession.

Murtagh's stomach growled and he blinked at the unexpected sound.

_You should eat something, _Thorn said.

_Meat of sorts, I've been living off plants for the last week and a bit, I need some real food! _Murtagh said. _Rabbit would be good, or maybe some of those wolves are still around._

_Murtagh, don't eat them, _Thorn sighed. _The hunters don't deserve to become the hunted, and besides, they look too tough for your liking._

_That's true, now you mention it, _Murtagh grumbled. _Rabbit then. _

He extended his mind out around the area and searched on the outskirts of the town, finally locating a burrow and whispering the fatal word under his breath. Thorn watched him as he trotted over to the burrow and extracted the rabbit carcass with magic, eyeing it and going back for another. Hauling his kill back off to Thorn, he skinned and gutted the rabbits and the dragon licked up the organs, swallowing them whole. Murtagh then removed the heads, feet and tail and set up a cook fire. Soon, the smell of roasting meat filled the area as Murtagh tended gently to the fire, poking it every once in a while and Thorn laid his head down on the ground, half closing his eyes and he began to hum softly in Murtagh's presence.

Once the rabbits were ready, Murtagh removed them from the fire and waved them about in the air to cool them before twisting off one of the back legs and munching on it. The fatty juices rolled over his tongue and he wiped his chin.

_That's much better, _he thought, taking another bite and soon, one of the rabbits was consumed and he decided to keep the other for later.

_Murtagh, Rámir approaches, _Thorn warned him and Murtagh looked up to see the green dragon's outline against the rising sun.

They were silent as they waited for him to land, the dragon's wings throwing up a storm as he settled onto the ground, folding them slowly. Arya slid off his back, sniffing the air disapprovingly as she smelt the aroma of the meat and looked towards Murtagh. "Anything?" she asked. Murtagh shook his head and her shoulders slumped. "It's been so long," she whispered.

"I know," Murtagh mumbled. "I'm getting worried."

"We all are," Arya said. "However much I don't like it, this could be our only chance to find out about Galbatorix's weakness."

"I know," Murtagh repeated. "I feel so helpless."

"Why did we have to come here in the first place?" Arya demanded of him, as if it had been his idea to come in the first place.

"Hey! It wasn't my choice," Murtagh said, spreading his arms.

"Why did we have to come here, when all we could have done is asked you and Thorn?" Arya asked angrily.

"What?" Murtagh growled.

_Is she blaming us? _he wondered.

_It looks like it, _Thorn muttered.

"I don't know anything," Murtagh said in a low voice, turning away from Arya's cold stare and gazing up at the Spine which rose behind them. "Nothing at all. I'm worried about Eragon too, and if I knew something, I would have already told everyone."

"How are we supposed to know that?"

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"How could I?"

"I'm used to it," he muttered darkly. "Sure, just go ahead and think of me as a traitor, it sure won't help you in your quest to vanquish the King."

"I wasn't saying that," Arya said quietly.

"It sure looked like you were," Murtagh snapped. "Then why did you challenge me? Why'd you just accuse me of all of that if you weren't calling me a traitor?"

"I wasn't calling you a traitor, I just don't trust you. Murtagh, there is a difference."

_That's very true, _Thorn chimed in. The tips of Murtagh's fingers twitched and he glared at his dragon.

"You don't trust me?" he said slowly, turning back to Arya. "Then what was it about this forgiveness which you gave me not two weeks ago?"

Arya ignored the question and looked away from Murtagh.

"Why won't you answer me?"

"Because you are not yet ready for the answer."

"And why not?" Murtagh shouted at her.

"Because you would not understand."

"I am not a child!"

"You are in many ways!" Arya shot back at him, swinging around and glaring at him, her emerald eyes flashing with a deep anger. "The answer would only bring more pain to you on your part."

"Maybe it won't!"

"I know it will."

The red and green Rider stood facing each other over a distance of a few dozen yards, the brown eyes boring into the green ones, the elf facing the human, the male facing the female.

"Then if you don't think I understand," Murtagh growled, "why did you say those things?"

"Because even though my kinsmen said they forgive you," Arya spat, "I never can, you or the Empire. Eragon told me the things you said to him on the Burning Plains, and I will never forget those words: 'Brom was a dabbler', 'The elves are fools and they can do nothing but hide in tyheir forest and wait to be conquered'."

"I've changed."

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

Murtagh threw his hands up in frustration and stalked away from her, kicking at a pole at the same time and it snapped in half, the top of it flying away to land a good twenty five feet away from its starting point. Arya didn't flinch; she stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes as she watched Murtagh walk away.

_Murtagh, _Thorn said, swinging his head around to watch his Rider walk away.

_What? _Murtagh snapped.

_We should be fighting amongst ourselves; that would only cause more strife and make things even more stretched between us._

_You think she's right to not trust us?_

_Yes. _

Thorn's blunt answer surprised Murtagh and he stopped and looked back at him. _Excuse me?_

_One of the most important things to consider in tactics, _Thorn said.

_Is too never trust someone who is, or was, the enemy, for they could double cross you, _Murtagh sighed.

_I think the best thing to do is to apologise and maybe even get into her good books. You've seen her feelings towards Eragon, I'm sure she only struck out at you because she is worried for him, _Thorn said. When Murtagh didn't reply, Thorn said, _Are you worried about losing face?_

_No, _Murtagh said.

_Murtagh, you know I can tell when you're lying._

Murtagh looked away and dug his hands into his pockets.

_Come. _Thorn got to his feet and bent his head toward Arya and gave her a small nudge on the back. She looked, around, surprised and she nodded, agreeing with whatever Thorn had said to her. _Murtagh, please come back, _Thorn said gently.

Murtagh's shoulders slumped and Thorn walked over to him, touching him on the shoulder gently with his nose.

_Come._

Murtagh glared at the ground and started forwards. Thorn gave a rumbling sigh of approval and followed, keeping a close tail on Murtagh so he weren't to turn around and disappear once more.

_Thorn,_Murtagh protested.

_One of your weak spots I have noticed,_the red dragon said, _is your immense pride. I admire that in you, but your sheer arrogance is getting hold of your better judgment. The best thing now is to make up and put this behind you. Arya wants to apologise to you._

_To me?_Murtagh barked with laughter and he turned back to his dragon, incredulous.

_You're not the only one who's changed,_Thorn shrugged. _Besides, she owes you a debt for saving her from Gil'ead._

_That she does._

Soon he stood before the elf and the two looked each other up and down.

Arya was the one to break the silence: "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm worried."

"I am too," Murtagh said quietly. "All four of us are. Thorn and I ... we were talking about them just before you and Rámir came back. I was saying to Thorn that I hope that Eragon indeed has the answer that will lead us to the end of this struggling."

"I do too," Arya murmured.

She retreated to the tiny cook fire and sat down beside it, hugging her knees and staring into the brightly glowing coals.

"I once was sitting around a camp fire like this with Eragon," Arya said.

Murtagh was silent as he gazed at the elf, but she was refusing to meet his gaze, her eyes were fixed on the glowing embers in front of her. He wasn't sure why Arya was taking to him now, especially not after their argument. He had barely talked to the elf since he had first seen her just under a year ago, sick, beaten and tortured, with Eragon holding her slight frame and asking Murtagh for help to carry her out. Even after the Battle of Farthen Dûr when he had been waiting with Arya outside Eragon and Angela's rooms with her, they had hardly spoken.

"It was when he was coming back from Helgrind, and I went out looking for him. Sometimes, it was awkward between us when we were sitting around that fire, sometimes we talking like we'd known each other for more than a few months," she continued.

She looked up at Murtagh who was still standing and she sighed, dropping her knees and assuming a cross-legged position.

"Why am I speaking of such?" she said, smiling slightly and still refusing to look up into his face. "I was shouting at you mere minutes ago, and now, now here I am talking about matters between us which are to stay between us."

Murtagh sat down heavily and rested his palms on the ground. "You know, I was also around a campfire long ago with Eragon once, the night we meet, and the night Brom's fate was decided. I felt slightly elated at the fact I had found the Ra'zac, but I was angry when they escaped. I was also astonished when I found out who Eragon was, and Brom the night after. I think we've both had similar experiences with Eragon and fires." Murtagh held his left hand out and murmured, "Brisingr," under his breath.

The fire grew and fingers of flame started to lick the coals and charcoal stacked beneath the single remaining rabbit carcass.

"Sometimes I wonder," Murtagh continued, "sometimes I wonder what would have become of me if I hadn't met Eragon that night, would I still be on the run from the Empire with nothing but my wits and my horse at my back, or would I have been captured and returned to Urû'baen anyway? I just don't know."

"I wonder that too sometimes," Arya said. "When you rescued me, it was just as I was about to stand before Galbatorix. Maybe my home would have been sacked and I may have been dead, but that is not the case. Here we are now. One thing I've learnt is not to brood on the past, for if we spend too much of our time immersed in what has already gone, how can we catch up and look towards the future? How can we stand up and move forward?"

Arya turned and looked Murtagh in the eye for the first time since their fight and he felt like he was being examined by the elf and he shuddered inwardly.

"How can we make the right choices and wade through the tides of life if we only brood on the past? This is what Galbatorix does, his murderous rage comes from what has happened in the past, and he cannot let go of it, this is what he has failed to do. His wrath comes from what has passed and he cannot let it go. His hurt comes from what has gone and this he cannot let go and leave it to fly away."

She looked upwards and brought up her hand, uncurling her fingers to reveal a lump of charcoal her wandering hand had found. Slowly, the gentle breeze picked up at the corners and a fine black powder began to come away from the surface and it was blown away.

"Sometimes, it does take time for us to let go of our anger, but we can. Brom did, Eragon did, and now you and I have hopefully let it go to be dispersed on the winds and to never be seen again, for it to go and shrivel up and die. Galbatorix cannot understand this and what was once, and still is pure love has turned him into a child of sins and bitterness. This is the prospect which he fails to understand; that life goes on."

"That's true," Murtagh mumbled. "The one thing which I can now see from Galbatorix is that he couldn't let go his hatred. Whenever I was training under him, all he did was teach me about his anger and his hurt, how he hates the Riders and Varden for what they refused for him, and how they defy his rule. This hatred gave birth to more and the cycle became a never ending one. My father for one, he saw that as right and he succumbed to it, such was his greed and such was his lust for power. He envied the other Riders for what they had and he no longer had, for what had been torn away from him because he was so vain as to think because one has power, he has authority. He sought the crown because of his want to control everything and everyone in the world, only because he did not have control when he lost Jarnunvösk to a rogue band of Urgals."

"A never ending circle indeed," Arya confirmed.

_Murtagh._

Thorn's voice was quiet and Murtagh looked up at the dragon. His muscles were strained and his nose twitching. He was staring intently at the immobile Gate.

_Thorn?_

Thorn was not the only one who had started, Arya had also looked up and so had Rámir.

_Listen._

Murtagh strained his ears and he could hear something, a low crackling and he jumped to his feet, brushing off his hands and he started forward. Thorn placed a foot in front of him, allowing him to go no further.

_Thorn!_Murtagh said angrily.

_I will not have you dive so recklessly into a situation without thinking it over!_Thorn snapped.

The Gate was beginning to shine and Murtagh shielded his eyes a few seconds later, squinting as the gap grew brighter and brighter with every passing second.

Suddenly, a raw wave of energy pulsed forth and hit Murtagh in the chest and he yelled as he was thrown backwards. Thorn had dug his claws into the ground at the last second and he caught his Rider with his tail. Murtagh flailed behind him for something to hold onto and his hand came to rest on one of the spikes dotted along Thorn's tail and he gripped it tightly.

"What in the world—?" he yelled.

The light began to die soon and his eyes widened as he saw a dragon and boy slumped on the ground in front of the Gate.

"Eragon!" Arya yelled.

_Saphira!_ Thorn shouted, surging forwards and Murtagh yelped as he too was hurtled forwards, having not relinquished his hold on Thorn's tail.

He quickly let go and sprinted forwards, but Arya beat him there and he hung back as she took Eragon into her arms, brushing his hair away from his face.

"Eragon?" she asked worriedly.

_Saphira?_Rámir whispered. He started forwards, but Thorn growled at him and raised his wings, baring his teeth at the same time.

_Stay back, hatchling._

Rámir gave a flat glare towards Thorn.

"Eragon?" Murtagh asked.

He stirred and looked up towards Murtagh and he blinked in surprise, his eyes were of the brightest sapphire blue. The effect didn't last for long though, and after a few seconds, his eyes started to wrap back to their usual brown.

"Eragon?" Arya whispered.

"Food," he mumbled. "Gimme some food, and then we have to get back to the Varden. There's so much I've found out."

* * *

I think I'mma go and punch out some Zs now; I'm kinda sleepy.

Will post the rest tomorrow.


	63. Chapter 63 -- Call to Arms

63

**Call to Arms**

_"This a call to arms,_

_Gather soldiers,_

_Time to go to war!_

_This is a battle song,_

_Brothers and sisters,_

_Time to go to war!" _

**_– Vox Populi: 30 Seconds to Mars_**

"Draumr Kópa," Eragon muttered.

The water in the shallow pool he had dug mere moments before turned black and the surfaced calmed before a single pinpoint of light penetrated the dark. It turned out to be a candle, the small flame flickering and helping illuminate a stone room. Blue skies shot with the early morning colours of pink and lilac touched the horizon. It was still early morning and Eragon could hear the quiet sounds of waves coming into the shore in the distance from Leona Lake.

He looked around the room.

Empty.

Eragon sighed and fell back onto his heels; of course it was too early, what was he thinking? He passed a hand over his face a sighed, if there were only someone there to take a message for him...

"Eragon?"

He jumped badly and his gaze returned to the pool. His eyes scanned the room and he quickly found the person who had spoken.

"Greetings, Elva," he murmured.

She had been hiding under the desk and she clambered out from underneath and proceeded towards the mirror, stopping a few centimetres from the glass and her head tipped slightly to the side, her hair falling away from her face and revealing the silvery star upon her brow.

"I assume you are after the Lady Nasuada?" she questioned.

Eragon dipped his head. "That I am, but I assume it is too early?"

"No, she is awake. The Queen of the Elves wanted a meeting with her this morning. Lady Nightstalker has gone to greet her. She will be back in a few minutes."

Eragon felt relieved and he slumped back. "That's good," he murmured.

"But her mind is troubled, Shadeslayer," she said.

"Can I ask why?" Eragon questioned.

"Things have been troubled amongst the Varden ever since you went," Elva informed him. "Your sudden disappearance has caused seeds of doubt to be sowed amongst the Varden, and some believe that you have gone back to Galbatorix, taking the green Rider and dragon as your captives. Some believe that you, Eragon Bromsson, have betrayed the Varden's cause, and therefore let Galbatorix win."

"I see," Eragon said.

He hadn't thought that far ahead. Of course there would be the odd person in the ranks of the rebels who would think his sudden disappearance along with that of Murtagh, Thorn, Arya and Rámir was as much proof as anyone would need to show that he had abandoned the Varden and fled back to Galbatorix's side to petted like an obedient dog who loved his master all too much. He never thought that far ahead, Brom would have had him for that, berating and lecturing him over and over again until he got the lesson into his head.

"Why did she want to see the Elven Queen?" Eragon asked next.

"The Varden are not the only people who have their doubts, you know," Elva said.

Eragon swore quietly under his breath. "When will Nasuada be coming back?"

"In not long," Elva answered. "She left close to an hour and a half ago; she has been up for quite a while."

Eragon felt bad there and then that he had caused Nasuada all of this trouble and heartache. Brom indeed would have had his skin by now.

"Can you feel how close she is?"

"Yes," the witch child said. "Her irritation and worry comes off of her in waves, she's coming now, along with Queen Islanzadí."

"How long?"

"Patience, Shadeslayer, patience, she will be here in a few minutes." Her lips lifted into a smile. "It was the lack of patience which you possess which now has you in this situation."

Eragon's ears burned. He could hear Brom's voice in his head now, and it didn't help that the memory of his father was fresh in his mind. He felt lonely, but then Saphira's vast, yet gentle mind brushed against his own.

_Hush, it's alright, little one._

_Thank you, _he murmured.

Elva turned away from the mirror, clambering into Nasuada's high-backed chair which had been carried all the way from Surda and snuggled into the pillows lining the seat. Her violet eyes were fixed on the door, half-lidded and unfocused.

Eragon waited patiently, shifting his weight slightly as the load of his body got too uncomfortable on his calves and he blew air through his cheeks.

"Is Nasuada there?" Arya asked from behind him.

"No, she's coming right now, but I was talking to Elva," Eragon replied. "There have been rumours going around that Murtagh and I have betrayed the Varden and taken you and Rámir to Galbatorix. She has been waiting for Queen Islanzadí so they could talk about how to squash the rumours."

"Surely if they see us safe and can tell the Varden that you and Saphira are not traitors," Arya said.

"And what of Thorn and myself?" Murtagh interjected in the background, and Thorn rumbled his agreement.

"You have yet to earn back the trust of the Varden, as have I," Eragon said, "but I would think they harbour some more trust for Saphira and I than yourself and Thorn."

Murtagh nodded his understanding and leant back against one of the blacken posts which used to be a supporting beam for Morn's tavern, Eragon could see one of the spiralling Urgal horns poking up through the ash cover a few feet away and, like everything else, they were burnt black.

"My mother is coming?" Arya asked.

"Aye, that she is," Eragon confirmed.

"Will you tell her of what you discovered?" said Arya.

This was a difficult situation. Neither Eragon nor Saphira had said anything about what had happened in the Vault, despite the numerous questions which had been asked of them by Arya, Rámir, Murtagh and Thorn. They did not understand all, for they were still mulling over some ideas and they were cautious of sharing the information with anyone else. The more people they trusted the information to, the more of a chance that Galbatorix would find out about their new found knowledge. Eragon knew that the King would be after all six of them, mostly himself and Saphira, but if Galbatorix couldn't his hands on them, then he would go for either Arya and Rámir, or Murtagh and Thorn. If the false King found out, it would only encourage him all the more.

Eragon looked up suddenly; from within the scrying pool, he could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps and his gaze quickly snapped back to the water. He pulled himself forward on his knees and stared intently at the office reflected in the water which in reality was leagues upon leagues away. Arya and Murtagh saw his sudden action and they too gathered around the pool so their own faces could now be seen on the other side.

The door banged open and two human guards strode into the room, looking around quickly, pikes half raised. They then saw Elva, relaxed and obviously comfortable and at home in Nasuada's chair and they too relaxed.

"There is no in here but Elva, milady," one of them said.

"We have guests," Elva said.

The guards looked around the room wildly, but they then spotted the three Riders within the depths of the mirror.

"Greetings, Shadeslayers," the second one said.

"Eragon?" a female voice snapped from outside.

Nasuada pushed past the guards and looked around quickly, soon spotting Eragon in the mirror and her eyes narrowed. Eragon could see the Queen of the Elves come into the room also as Nasuada advanced towards the mirror, soon blocking half the office from view.

"Greetings," Eragon murmured.

"And likewise," Nasuada growled. "Where have you been? Did you leave for this Vault you talked about earlier this week?"

"That I did," Eragon confirmed.

Nasuada's nostrils flared, Eragon could tell instantly she had not yet forgiven him for running from the Varden; he wasn't surprised in the least.

"And I suppose you found nothing," Nasuada said.

"What is this you speak of?"

Eragon looked around to see Islanzadí still standing by the door, looking irritable. She was looking intently at Arya and the princess returned the Queen's gaze.

"A Rock of some sort," Nasuada said.

"A Rock?"

"The Rock of Kuthian," Eragon put in.

"Ah," the Queen said. "The Rock of Kuthian through which can enter the Vault."

"How did you know?" Eragon asked quickly. "I asked Oromis and Glaedr, but yet, even with their vast resources of knowledge, they only said that it struck a chord in their memories, but they couldn't put their finger on what it was."

"I looked into it when my mate was taken away from me," Islanzadí said bitterly. "I wanted to see Evandar once again, but I couldn't find the Vault. So, you have found it, Rider?"

"I found it," Eragon confirmed.

Nasuada drew back and Islanzadí remained motionless.

"I ventured forth into the Vault, and I found out many things, and the secret for which Galbatorix strives towards," Eragon said.

"Leave us."

Nasuada's sudden command caught the guards and they looked towards her.

"Milady?"

"Wait for me outside," Nasuada ordered.

They bowed and left quickly, closing the door gently behind them.

Nasuada turned back to Eragon. "You found some ... some sort of fairy tale?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"And what is it exactly you found out?"

"The thing which Galbatorix has been desperate to find for the last century."

"And what is it?"

"Something which can turn against us and whole campaign which my father and his successors have been leading for the last ten decades."

"Eragon, I can't grasp something firmly if you keep dancing around the questions I ask of you," Nasuada sighed patiently, rubbing her temples with her fingertips and moving them around in a circular motion. "Please, I need the answer as why you must have disappeared so suddenly and dodge all of the patrolling guards. What was so important that you disobeyed my orders?"

"Nasuada, please remember that I am no longer under your direct command," Eragon put in.

"I do remember that, but can you still not trust me like you once did?" she asked him.

"I do trust you," Eragon said quickly, "but I have only told Arya, Rámir, Murtagh, Thorn and Glaedr about what has happened in the Vault. I have only told them for I know we are safe where we are now, and they won't let the information slip. Nasuada, what if you or someone else with this knowledge was to be captured, or if our conversation was being overheard right now? Or else, someone were scrying us now? I can't allow this to slip, for if Galbatorix found out, his speed and desperation for his goal to become a reality will only come forth upon us all the faster. Please, understand me."

Nasuada was silent, her eyes downcast towards the hem of her dress and she was biting her lip, thinking.

Then: "I want to know this information; will you at least tell me when you come back?"

Eragon thought for a second, he had entrusted with her important information before, the Eldunarí of Glaedr, for instance, he had told her about the over sized gemstone and she had kept her word not to tell a single soul about the dragon within the Heart of Hearts without prior permission from Eragon, Saphira, Arya, Islanzadí, or even from Glaedr himself.

"I will," he said finally. "But this is not the reason for me being here. Nasuada, this is a desperate situation and I ask much of you, but the Varden need to move out of Dras-Leona as fast as possible."

"And why so?" Nasuada asked curiously.

"Aye, Rider, why so?" Islanzadí said, striding forwards to come level with the dark skinned leader of the Varden.

"Because we don't have much time," Eragon said urgently. "We need the Varden to move out, and the elves, your majesty," he said, bowing his head quickly.

Islanzadí nodded curtly. "And what say you, my daughter? Do you agree with the Blue Rider?"

"I agree with Eragon," Arya said sharply.

_As do I, _Rámir said, pushing his head forwards.

Despite the fact that his mental voice couldn't be heard by Nasuada and Islanzadí, they seemed to understand Rámir's body language.

"And when can you get back to us?" Islanzadí cut in.

Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but then Murtagh said, "By late tonight."

Eragon closed his mouth quickly and merely nodded, agreeing with his brother. "It's possible," he said quietly.

_Rámir, can you make it?_

_Don't doubt me, _Rámir said to him. _Even though I may be young, I am strong._

_Arya?_

_If he can make it,_ she said.

"Aye, by late tonight if we come back with all hast," Eragon confirmed.

"Then we can leave tomorrow morning," Nasuada said.

"As can we," Islanzadí agreed.

"This is a tall order for you to make us, mind you," Nasuada said, turning back to Eragon.

"I understand that," he replied, "but we can end this hundred years struggle by the summer if we can move out tomorrow."

Nasuada's eyes shone and Islanzadí's lips twitched into a smiled.

"That would be indeed welcome," Islanzadí said. "And we can also squash the rumours of your apparent treason to boot."

"A bonus," Eragon chuckled.

"Yes," Nasuada agreed. "Eragon, you must promise to tell the both of us what it is you found out about what Galbatorix is searching for and how this is to turn the tables dramatically if he is to succeed in his goals."

"I will," Eragon vowed.

* * *

**SAPHIRA'S **WING STROKES were all Eragon heard apart for the rushing wind in his ears. He felt pleased that both Nasuada and Islanzadí had consented to go along with his plan. He could see Thorn and Murtagh below them, Rámir trailing behind. Eragon was slightly worried for the younger dragon, but he had insisted that he was fine.

_Are you sure you don't want to rest for a couple of hours? _Eragon asked him yet again.

_My answer has not changed, _he snapped in annoyance.

_He is proud, _Saphira murmured to Eragon quietly. _He is tired, his strength is waning fast and he's shaking with exhaustion._

_I know, it's why I keep asking him if he's alright._

_I'd think Arya could talk some sense into him, _Saphira suggested.

_Aye, I suppose, _Eragon said.

After talking with Arya for a few moments, she agreed to ask Rámir if he wanted to rest, but he still refused to change his mind, snorting fire when Arya had asked him.

_I am not a child! _he roared.

Saphira pulled up and growling with frustration, swerved back to Rámir. Eragon yelped with surprise when she flew straight into him, taking his wing muscles into her claws and stopping his flapping. She grunted with the effort as Rámir wriggled and howled with annoyance.

_Peace! _she cried.

_I am, _Rámir hissed bitterly, his head slumping. _I'm not helpless! I can do this! I am not a child!_

_But you are being a stubborn hatchling, _Saphira snapped. _We can all see you're exhausted. _She let go of him and Rámir struggled for a bit before he became airborne once more. _It's not a sign of weakness if you just say you're tired and want to rest, _she said gently, touching him with her nose.

_But? _Rámir said, confused. _But it's like submitting, and ... and I won't give up for something so petty!_

_Wanting to rest for a little is not wrong, _Saphira continued. _Thorn and I, we are many months older than yourself, and even though I am barely more than a year old, I myself am struggling slightly with the great speed we are travelling at._

Rámir lifted his head and he sniffed her.

_Even you? _he whispered.

_It is not a sign of weakness to admit you are tired, _Saphira said, licking him. _You are still young, and I am only looking out for the best for you. You are one of the last of my kin, and I have my affections for you._

_You do?_

_I do, _Saphira said. _Are you tired?_

_Yes, _Rámir grumbled finally.

_Do you want to rest?_

_That I do._

_Then come._

Saphira clasped her wings by her sides and plummeted through the cloud cover, Thorn and Rámir soon following her.

_Saphira, _Eragon said, stroking her neck at the same time, _why didn't you tell me that you were tired?_

_I'm not, _she said. _I'm fine, but I had to make Rámir see some sense; he's stubborn, and he needs to know his limits. And as I said, there's nothing wrong with admitting your fatigue, Rámir is doing very well as it is, and besides, I can tell you want to stretch your legs._

_Yeah, _Eragon replied.

_An open book, _Saphira laughed.

She flared her wings and flapped hard as she came into land. It was nearing the evening, the land bathed in the mild shadows of twilight, and the sun peeked over the horizon, the long beams of light shafting between the mountains. A small river ran nearby and Saphira pulled herself over to it after Eragon slid down her side, taking several large mouthfuls as he stretched away the aches he felt all over his body, especially the sores he felt on his behind and in his cramped leg muscles.

"Ow," he muttered after coming down out of his pose, his muscles protesting and screaming after being forced to return to their normal positions.

The grass around his feet swayed in the winds kicked up by Thorn's wing strokes as he came into land. He touched the ground running and soon slumped onto his side.

Murtagh undid the buckles holding his legs in place and slowly got of the crest of Thorn's shoulders, stumbling over when he hit the grass and falling to his hands and knees. "The worst part," Eragon heard him mutter darkly under his breath.

Eragon chuckled and limped over to Saphira, his legs still having pins and needles, and he reached up, flipping over the top of one of the saddlebags and removing a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. He untied it and the material fell around the food. His stomach rumbled at the sight and Saphira looked over, bemused.

_Eat, and then we should be gone again, if we leave then, we should be back in the early hours of the dawn, _she said to him.

The ground shuddered as Rámir came in to land last. He nearly flopped over when he landed, tipping over cautiously to the side before he lost his balance and fell.

Arya leaned away from the ground and jumped from the saddle as Rámir's head came in to contact with the soft grass. "Rámir!"

_Soft, _Rámir murmured sleepily, purring slightly as he rolled around in the grass.

Eragon laughed and crossed over to Arya, breaking off a bit of the bread and passing it to her. "I've seen Saphira do that a few times," he said. "Never ceases to amuse me."

"Mmm," Arya said.

Eragon sat down and Arya sat beside him. He placed an arm around her shoulders, and he found her skin ice cold from being up in the clouds for such a long time.

"I fell as if we are still up in the sky, flying," Arya murmured.

"As do I," Eragon said. "I remember, shortly before Saphira and myself were taken, that you hated flying."

"That changed," Arya whispered. "As I said to Rámir, I didn't know how peaceful it could be up in the clouds, and sometimes, if I listened whilst lying in bed when he was flying, I would heard him lamenting and feel his longing for me to be with him across our bond. Now I know what he felt like, for it's so lonely up there."

"Something that's cured when you have someone there with you," Eragon said.

"Aye," Arya muttered.

Their conversation was cut short as Murtagh sat opposite them, slumping down and blinking slightly. "Fire?" he asked.

"Why not? Rámir's tired, and I think we'll be here for a little while longer," Eragon shrugged.

Soon, a fire was underway and Murtagh brought out a cook pot, spices and was making some soup after mixing and blending the ingredients using a short spell. The smell of it wafted through the air as they nibbled on their bread.

"Saphira says that we'll be back in the early hours of dawn if we leave soon," Eragon informed them.

"And I agree with her," Murtagh said. "We're past Teirm; I noticed we flew over the Toark River a little while back."

"I did too," Eragon said. "Now to Leona Lake."

"Yes," Murtagh said. He took up a bowl and used a small spoon to ladle some of the now hot and cooked soup into the roughly cut wood. He passed it to Arya, and then one to Eragon before fixing him one for himself.

Once again, they eat silently and they soon packed up once the dragon agreed they were ready to fly once more.

_Will you tell us if you a tired once we ask next time, to save the hassle? _Saphira asked Rámir curtly. _We don't need to repeat that drama once again._

_Yes, _Rámir said.

_Good._

Saphira took off after Thorn and ascended to the clouds, breaking the apparitions easily. The top sides were bathed with silver moonlight and Saphira looked back towards Eragon. _Remember? Remember when we last flew in a sky like this? In happier days, just after Feinster?_

_Yes, _Eragon said. _I remember. But we are no longer alone; we have the others with us._

_That we do,_ Saphira said. _Now, to Dras-Leona and lets ease Nasuada's and the Varden's minds._


	64. Chapter 64 -- Into the Shadows

64

**Into the Shadows**

_"... So fly with me, my brothers, sisters, and we will show the Sky People that they cannot take whatever they want, and that this ... this is our land!"_

**_- Jake Sully: Avatar_**

Dras-Leona was a bustling city when Saphira reached the walls in the early hours of the morning. She circled far above the stone houses, waiting for Rámir with Thorn a little way below her. Soon, the green dragon bobbed down from the cloud cover, his tongue hanging out of his jaws and there was foam issuing from the corners of his mouth.

_Nearly there,_she told him.

Rámir merely nodded, tucking his wings into his sides and diving downwards.

Saphira and Thorn followed soon afterwards and Eragon crouched in the saddle, the wind rushing through his hair and making the tips of his ears string and his eyes smart.

When the three dragons were low enough to be distinguished for what they were, a shout when up and Eragon could make out the movement in the city come to a halt and many faces turning upwards to see the three Riders and their steeds coming into land.

Saphira flared her wings a few hundred feet from the ground and drove them down in powerful strokes to ease her descent, landing gently amongst the grasses of the courtyard. Thorn landed on her left, and Rámir almost crashed next to her on her right. Eragon looked around worriedly to see the state of the younger dragon.

His eyes were half closed and he was trembling, his wings hanging limply by his sides and nose almost brushing against the ground.

"Rámir?" he asked.

_Don't … worry,_the dragon whispered.

_Here, take it. _

Eragon was surprised to hear Glaedr's voice and then, through his mental connection, felt a surge of energy passing from the golden gemstone into Rámir's body. Soon, his quaking has ceased and he lifted his head up a little. Silent gratitude flowed from his being and he folded his wings up neatly, slumping down on the ground and closing his eyes.

Arya slid off of him and passed around his head, crouching down and laying both of her hands on his nose. _You did so well, _she whispered.

_For you, and for the well being of this land, _Rámir whispered back. Even though Glaedr had given him an immense amount of energy, the young emerald dragon was still tired.

Saphira looked up as the door leading to the main part of the Keep was opened and a stream of guards came out, rushing into position and placing their pikes down with smart _clacks _which echoed around the stone courtyard.

Nasuada strode forwards, followed by Islanzadí and a positively exhausted Elva. Eragon had to remember that even though her thoughts and voice were that of an adult's her body was still that of a child's and she must have been tired due to the hour it was.

"Eragon," Nasuada started as she pulled up in front of him.

Eragon bowed his head. "I am sorry that we are late, Nasuada," he said.

"Mmm, I expected you back a few hours ago."

"I know, and I'm sorry about the delay," Eragon apologised.

"It is of no concern," Nasuada said, waving a hand absentmindedly in the air. Her face became serious all of a sudden. "I still do not approve of yours, and the other Rider's actions from earlier this week."

"I know, but we had to get away, no matter what," Eragon explained.

"From what you have told us," Nasuada said, "I have to say that I was wrong in keeping you here, but you did not have to go as far as killing someone to keep silent."

"It was not him," Murtagh said suddenly. "I … I killed Monica."

"So, it was you," Nasuada said. "I suspected so, for the arrow was identified as yours, Murtagh, but I want to hear the story about how her death came about later. Eragon, I'm sure as you can see, I have asked the Varden early yesterday morning to expect to move out of the city on our final march."

"I saw, and I am grateful to you," Eragon said. "Your efforts have reflected greatly on this war, and if not for them, we might still have been in Aberon."

"Yes, growing fat and lazy within the walls of Orrin's palace. I had no intention to sit there like we had done in Farthen Dûr for the past century," said Nasuada. "Although I acknowledge it was necessary whilst we built up our numbers and support, I still thought it was high time we move on."

Nasuada turned to Arya and Murtagh here. "I want to hear of your reasons for accompanying Eragon later, but now is not the time, for we will be moving out before noon." She looked towards Rámir and bit her lip; the dragon was still shaking from exhaustion and the green eyes flicked over to Nasuada. "Rámir, do you wish to rest?"

_That I do, _he said through Arya, _but do not let me bring your plans to a standstill, I will rest as much as I can along the way to Urû'baen._

"If you insist," Nasuada said.

"Arya," Islanzadí said. "Come, I want to talk to you; tell me about what has transpired since we last met," she continued in the ancient language to give the conversation a little more privacy.

"Wiol ono," Arya said.

They watched Arya and Islanzadí leave, and then Nasuada turned to Eragon and Murtagh. "I want you two to come with me."

"What about Saphira and Thorn?" Eragon asked quickly.

_Eragon, Thorn and I will stay here, _Saphira said. _We are both tired, and our wings ache. Also, my belly is giving me some pains; maybe I should not have flown so far and fast because of my eggs._

_I forgot about that, _Eragon said sheepishly. _I should have thought first._

_That does not matter now, _Saphira admonished. She curled her tail around her form and closed her eyes, draping a single wing over herself.

Thorn joined her a few seconds later, and Saphira didn't do anything as he curled himself up beside her and touched her belly with the tip of his nose.

_We'll be alright, _Saphira said.

_Alright, _Eragon murmured. He touched her warm side and she hummed a little.

Thorn lifted his head a little and locked eyes with Murtagh, a flurry of conversation passing between them, and Eragon withdrew to give them a little privacy.

Eragon waited patiently until Murtagh and Thorn were finished, and then said to Nasuada, "We're coming."

They fell into step beside her and she whispered quietly under her breath, "So?"

Eragon looked around quickly at the guards who were drawing in from all sides and replied in a monotone voice, "Not here, we're too open out here."

Nasuada nodded her understanding and Eragon felt Elva's presence by his side. He looked down to see the small witch child level with his hip and she looked up at him, flashing a smile at the same time and the early morning light caught the silver star on her forehead.

"I can sense your confusion at what has happened within your recent adventures, Shadeslayer," she murmured so quietly Eragon wouldn't have heard her had it not been for his excellent hearing.

"I am," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "but I can make enough sense out of it that I know what to do."

"I do hope so," Elva said, smiling all the more widely.

Eragon felt slightly unnerved, so he turned his eyes away from Elva, although he could tell she was still watching him intently.

The ruddy red light from the breaking dawn was cut off when they entered the Keep and Eragon and Murtagh followed Nasuada silently to her office. When the guards had checked there was no one inside, they entered and Nasuada sat down behind the desk.

"Tell me of what you have found out," she said. "Eragon you promised me you would not hold back."

"Very well," he murmured. After casting spells to make sure no one could eavesdrop on their conversation, be it may through the door or by magical means, he sighed. "Galbatorix is trying to find the true name of the Ancient Language."

Nasuada's eyes narrowed here. "I know little about magic," she said, "but I do know that things are controlled and manipulated through this language."

"Aye, this is an all powerful tongue, and it is the very essence that commands magic," Murtagh said, crossing his arms.

"That I understand," she said. "And I'm also guessing that if Galbatorix does find the name for this language, that we will all be at his mercy, and his wrath."

"That we will be," Eragon confirmed. "The Varden will be a lost cause and everything that we've fought to achieve over the last one hundred years will be like dust in the wind. We need to defeat the King before he finds this name, and we have to do it without letting the knowledge that we know if this slip."

"As I have said to Eragon, and I'm sure he knows from a firsthand experience," Murtagh interjected, "he is most adept at the practice."

Eragon dipped his head in confirmation.

Nasuada sighed, interlocking her fingers and placing her elbows on the table and resting her head on her hands, deep in thought. "It is true that I do not know exactly what you mean by this all," she said, "I find magic deeply impractical and I somewhat loathe the art, what people are wanting to know is why, after barely three weeks, we must move on again so soon."

Eragon jumped forwards, anger showing on his face as he imagined Nasuada making the announcement about what they had found out to the Varden, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"Peace! I know that we should keep this close to our chests; it would be foolish to think that our ranks would be devoid of spies, and I understand also that if Galbatorix found out, it would make him all the more frantic. What I was going to say, Eragon, is that I will do my best to take responsibility for this sudden movement."

Eragon was shocked and he stared dumbfounded at Nasuada, but he quickly regained his composure, giving a short bow instead. "Your kindness is overwhelming," he murmured.

"Think of it not as a kindness, but think of it as a desperate woman and a desperate leader who is eager to finish this hundred years bloodbath," Nasuada smiled. "Eragon, I want to thank you for telling me this, and I shall keep this secret close to myself."

There was a knock on the door and Nasuada called, "Enter!"

A guard came in and he quickly looked at Murtagh and Eragon saw a hint of nervousness around his figure. The guard bowed low and said to Nasuada, "The Varden are lining up in their ranks, they are ready for the address."

"You have done well, Sai," Nasuada said. "I thank you for all your hard work, and at this hour in the morning as well." To Eragon, she said, "We will be aiming to leave before the seventh hour this morning, will that give Saphira, Thorn and Rámir enough rest?"

"Thorn, yes," Murtagh said.

"And Saphira as well, possibly," Eragon added.

"What is troubling you, Eragon?" Nasuada asked gently.

"She ... she is beginning to feel the tolls of what has happened to her regarding her eggs," Eragon whispered quietly.

"But—"

"Lady, he is hurting," Elva said from Nasuada's side. The child was looking imploringly into Nasuada's face and the Varden leader bit her lip.

"Forgive me," she muttered into her lap.

Eragon nodded and when Nasuada said nothing after a few seconds, she waved her hand as a sign that he could leave and he did so, holding open the door for Murtagh as well.

"So that's what Thorn was talking about when he said Saphira's not going too well?" he asked Eragon quietly.

Eragon only nodded in reply and Murtagh dropped the subject. Eragon was thankful that he understood, and he could imagine the Red Rider thinking the same thoughts as him; Saphira wasn't the only one who was going to live with the burdens and scars with what had happened in Urû'baen.

"How long, now?"

"Two months maybe, that is until she drops the eggs," Eragon murmured.

They turned down the corridor and Eragon continued, "When dragons are in their eggs, they are already fully formed, but they don't hatch until the conditions are right, that why Saphira, Thorn and Rámir went so long without hatching, for dragons who are destined to have Riders, the right circumstances for them is when they sense that their Rider is near."

"Galbatorix taught me that much," Murtagh replied. "He went on for a while saying that it was an honour for me to be chosen, and he kept muttered about how long it had taken Thorn to find his Rider."

"For all of them, really," Eragon said, a small smile coming to his face.

_Would have rather had us hatch earlier to someone other than yourselves? _Saphira asked them both, coming into their minds and Eragon shook his head.

_I'm happy that you waited for me._

_As am I, little one._

_How are you?_

_I'm fine, I'm just tired._

_Nasuada said that the Varden are aiming to leave before seven o'clock, will you three be rested enough by that time?_

_Thorn and myself, yes, _Saphira replied, _but I am less certain about Rámir. If he is still feeling the aches of the past few hours, he can travel on foot and rest his wings, for that is where he is hurting most._

_Alright. _

**THE **RANKS OF the Varden had swelled from the time that the rebels had invaded Dras-Leona. The news that the city had fallen to the rebels had spread far and wide, and new recruitments had been arriving from every direction over the past three weeks. Bright new eyes looked on eagerly as Nasuada topped the front of the line astride Battle-storm in her shining armour. Jörmundur was beside her on his horse, the helm on his head reflecting the light of the young sun.

Eragon was beside Jörmundur, standing beside Nasuada. Rámir and Thorn were beside her with their respective Riders, and Eragon saw every now and again a filthy look thrown in their direction, most of these being aimed at Murtagh. His half brother was ignoring them all, his shoulders squared and determination etched onto his face.

"Varden!" Nasuada called. She nudged her heels into Battle-storm's sides and the horse took a few steps forwards. Nasuada surveyed the warriors in front of her and her almond eyes were aglow, framed by her hair and she radiated her own beauty.

_A queen fit for battle, _Saphira said.

_Indeed, _Eragon replied.

"I admire you for your titanic efforts in rising this morning and embracing this new and hastily constructed plan," Nasuada continued. "I thank every single one of you, and I thank you for all the sweat, blood and tears shed on this campaign, whether you have been with us for many weeks, months and years, other whether you have taken up a sword and shield only yesterday, I thank you for it.

"Some people have asked several questions as to why we are leaving at the crack of dawn, and I shall tell you why: we are so close! We are on the doorstep of victory, and we have had confirmation from the dwarves within the last two days that King Orik and his men shall be meeting us on our march to Urû'baen. Nar Garzhvog and his kinsmen, as well as Queen Islanzadí and the elves of Du Weldenvarden have also helped greatly in this campaign, and I also admire their efforts and their hearts, their courage and their determination, and their willingness to cooperate with the humans of Alagaësia to set right what we have done wrong. Galbatorix's poison has spread to the four corner of this Empire of his, and I say now, now we should cleanse what we humans have done, and set this right! Let your children, and your children's children live in freedom, and do not let your family members, the friends and your lovers, your husbands and wives, your children, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers and other relatives be forgotten! Let us march and over throw this King! Let us march and let us protect all whom we can protect, make them sing of the day we have over thrown this son of a bitch who calls himself King!

"Follow me into the shadows, who will follow me into the veil, to the root and heart of this blackness, and who is brave enough to put their lives on the line to make this land a better place for the new generations in decades, centuries and millennia in the distant future? Not one wracked with fear and death, but with one that is bright and full of light! Who is brave enough to follow me?"

The answering roar lifted the rooves as the Varden cheered and screamed their approval. Swords banged against shields, pikes struck the ground and feet stamped. Saphira roared towards the sky and spread her wings far above her head, and Eragon too yelled his approval.

Nasuada was grinning widely and she unsheathed her sword, lifting it high into the air so the morning sunlight caught the gleaming blade. "Come!" she screamed, turning around and riding towards the gates. The massive wooden and iron bound doors began to open, and Eragon was reminded of the time when he and Brom were escaping the city from the Ra'zac so long ago, but this time, Eragon left with hope at his back, and the people he loved by his side: Saphira, Roran, Murtagh, the villagers of Carvahall, and Arya, her raven hair billowing and catching the rising sun as it peeked over the parapets of Dras-Leona.

_Towards our freedom, we now march._

* * *

*insert more Braveheart music here*


	65. Chapter 65 -- The Unforgivable

65

**The Unforgivable**

_"And they are so named?"_

_"Because they are unforgivable …" _

**_– Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Movie_**

_T__hey have stopped marching, _Saphira said.

Eragon looked over her side to see that they had indeed stopped for today.

It had been two weeks since they had left Dras-Leona, leaving the Varden footsore and weary. Some were still grumbling about leaving the safe hold of the city so soon after the battle, when many were still recovering from injuries inflicted both physically and spiritually. Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh and Thorn were just some of the many individuals still suffering from the mental injuries; all four of them hadn't escaped Galbatorix's hold unharmed. Katrina had pointed out only that morning to Eragon that he was moodier and surlier than ever before, and Eragon had to agree with her, his temper had been shortened considerably in his time with the King.

Katrina was also another suffering individual; she was due to give birth to her baby any day soon, Eragon could sense the small life within her belly ready to enter the world, and he had confirmed the fact that she was to be a mother within a few days, maybe within hours.

_You should go to her, _Saphira said, reading the flow of her Rider's thoughts and Eragon nodded meekly.

_Aye._

Saphira tipped forward, clasping her wings close to her sides as she plummeted through the cloud cover, flaring her wings and landing soon afterwards to find Rámir and Arya already on the ground, talking with Nasuada.

"We will stay here for a few days, giving the Varden time to rest," Nasuada was saying, balancing a map upon her lap and her finger was at a point halfway between Urû'baen and Dras-Leona.

"Yes if we are here, then it will be at least another two weeks before we are in sight of Urû'baen," Arya said. "Giving the men time to rest is wise, but then again, our best advantage is our speed. My kin and I, we could make it to Urû'baen in naught but a few days."

"I am aware of that," Nasuada said, "but it was proven in the Fall a century ago that we need to help each other in the matter to topple Galbatorix, every soldier and every life we have is precious and this we need."

"Aye," Garzhvog growled. "The Urgralgra are proud beings, but even we acknowledge that we are in need of allies in these times."

"A step forwards in the history of this land," Nasuada said.

She rolled up the map and passed it to Jörmundur who then gave it to a soldier who ran off with it close to his chest.

Saphira went up to Rámir and touched him gently on his neck. _How are your wings today?_

_Sore, _Rámir replied.

_Will this short break be able to give you your strength back?_

_Aye, _he growled. _Two days is enough for me._

_You won't be resting all the time, though, _came Glaedr's voice. _Now comes the final march as Nasuada said. _

_Training? _Rámir sighed.

_Yes, _Glaedr confirmed.

_Anything to make sure you are not captured or killed, _Saphira said.

Rámir glared, as would a pouting child and Eragon chuckled.

The sounds of hooves made him look around to see Islanzadí pulling up upon her white stallion, the horse tossing its mane and coming to a stop at the word in the ancient language.

"What do you think?" Nasuada asked the elven queen.

"It will do," was the reply.

Eragon could see the slight flicker of annoyance that passed across Nasuada's face, but it was quickly dispelled and the Varden leader straightened herself in the saddle.

"Where would have your army stay in regard to the camp setting out?"

"I will situation my warriors within their own group on the edge," Islanzadí said.

"As you wish," Nasuada muttered.

"And also," Islanzadí said, turning back to face Nasuada, "I have had confirmation from Lord Fiolr that he and the rest of the elves from Du Weldenvarden who have changed their minds otherwise, or have recovered from previous illnesses and injuries will be joining us late tonight, so our number will be greatly multiplied."

"This is indeed good tidings," Nasuada said. She smiled and turned away from the elven queen, leaning in close to Jörmundur. "I would like you to take charge along with three other commanders of your choice as to where and how this camp will be set out. Tell the men also not to make themselves too comfortable, for wed will be moving out within two days."

"Yes, milady," he said. Jörmundur spurred his horse and the stallion galloped away.

Nasuada sighed and turned to Eragon. "Good, you are here," she muttered.

"Aye," he said.

"I want to talk to you, Eragon," she said.

"Why so?"

"I want you to be there when the elves arrive, and I have received a message also from Orik as to when and where they will be joining our army. The dwarven army that was with us on the Burning Plains marched forth to attack Melian after you were captured, and they have toppled Furnost as well, this happened while you were looking for the Vault."

"You told me about Furnost," Eragon said, "and I heard about what happened to Melian from Galbatorix; he wasn't all too pleased about the fall of the city."

"Yes, but anyway, they have assured us that we won't be attacked from the rear anytime soon – to which I am highly grateful – and they are marching to meet us hopefully as we speak."

"Yes, they should be meeting the Varden so, no?" Eragon said.

"Yes, will be camped three days from our current mark, and are closing in on their target and should be setting up camp sometime within the next two days. Orik is eager to see you again, Eragon. He has been very worried about both you and Saphira since he heard what had happened to you two after Feinster."

"I want to see him again too," Eragon admitted.

"I'm sure," Nasuada said.

She turned around to see Jörmundur and his men issuing commands to the Varden and the men were rushing – civilly – to find the best camping spots and Nasuada shook her head. Eragon heard her mutter, "Men," ever so quietly under her breath.

_She really is rather sick of this campaign, isn't she? _Saphira observed.

_I think everyone is, to be honest, myself included, _Eragon replied.

_And me too, _Saphira muttered. _I am not eager for the coming battle, but yet, I want to fight in this last battle soon, just to get this war over with, and so I can provide a safer world for my hatchlings._

Eragon walked over to her, laying both hands on her stomach and closing his eyes. _I'm so sorry._

_Do not worry yourself over this now, _Saphira quipped.

_I worry all the time, _Eragon chuckled.

_And so do I, and I have reason to._

_I have reason to as well, _Eragon protested.

_Ah, but I have more, _Saphira said. _I have told you my theory about you being in more danger when I am not around, you can't deny it._

_I'm always in danger, no matter what, _Eragon said, outraged.

_Why do you sound like that? _Saphira said.

_I'm trying to prove a point!_

_Doing what? Losing your temper?_

_Oh never mind, _the Rider snapped, burying his hands in his pockets and glowering at the ground.

_Oh little one, _Saphira laughing, blowing on his hair and the warmth of her breath ran down his back. _Shall we go and see what we can do?_

_Alright._

"Eragon!"

_Now what? _he groaned.

Nasuada had come back for a split second, and she pulled on her steed's reigns to bring the war horse to a halt. "I would like you to also go tonight and greet the coming elves," she said. "I … I know this is slightly selfish of me to ask you, but I do this as a friend, can you understand? I think it would be polite of both you and I."

_Saphira?_

_Just go._

"Alright," he said.

"Thank you. And I would also find Murtagh and Thorn and ask them to go along as well."

"Um," Eragon said, looking quickly at the ground.

"Are you worried about the elves' reactions?" she asked.

Eragon nodded. "Arya said to me even though she considers Murtagh an ally, they can never be friends, and that she will never forgive him for what he did. Besides, I cannot whatsoever stand up in his defence because they will ask questions regarding how I know that information. Even I cannot be completely trusted, Nasuada, because of my recent service to Galbatorix."

"I understand," Nasuada said, going tight lipped, "but if we are to get along, we first need to settle grudges and build new and stronger bridges; I don't want this campaign to turn into a vendetta of some sort, for we need everyone if we are going to defeat this tyrant King."

* * *

**ERAGON **TOOK NASUADA'S advice and sought Murtagh out later that afternoon, locating him amongst the horse lines. Saphira had not accompanied him, gorging herself at the current moment for she had not eaten for a little and Eragon had a handful of free time.

He stopped when he saw what his half brother was doing, watching from a distance as Murtagh stood in front of a horse, scratching it behind the ear and stroking the stallion's nose.

"Hey, Tornac," Eragon heard him mutter.

Looking at the horse, Eragon recognised the grey charger as Murtagh stroked him, the one which Murtagh had ridden throughout the Empire on their journey from Dras-Leona to Gil'ead, through the Hadarac Desert and finally through the Beor Mountains to Farthen Dûr. Eragon had often wondered what had become of the horse, and he guessed he had found his answer: the stallion had changed ownership.

"It's been a while," Murtagh continued, still scratching behind Tornac's ear.

The horse whinnied and stamped his foot, nose flaring and Murtagh smiled a little.

"I guess I will never be riding you again, boy," he said. "I still hold a special place in my heart for you, though, and I will forever cherish the friendship we held, but times have changed. I have Thorn now, and he'll get upset if I leave him for you. Remember Saphira? Thorn's a dragon, just like her, and I love him as I do you." Murtagh gave a small smile and his fingers stopped scratching behind Tornac's ears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He fished into his pocket and brought out half an apple which he gave to the horse and the stallion took it in between his teeth, a parting gift.

Murtagh watching stonily as the apple bit fell to the ground and the horse went after them.

Then: "Eragon, I know you're there. What is it?"

"Nasuada requested me to tell you that the elves from Du Weldenvarden are coming late tonight, and she says it might be an idea for you to come and greet them."

"She really does want me dead," Murtagh snorted. "Eragon, they'll never forgive me, and I'm sure some of them would be more than happy to kill Thorn and myself, I can grantee you that."

"I said much the same," Eragon sighed, "but she then replied that we can't be fighting amongst ourselves, that we need to forget and forgive old grudges and move on."

"Tell that to Galbatorix," Murtagh muttered. "I can't, you can't, and they most certainly will not."

"Islanzadí forgave you," Eragon said.

"Liar," Murtagh growled. "Arya told me naught but a few hours ago. I knew they elves were coming, and she warned me, and I'm still angry at them for playing such a trick, and Thorn is as well. I had half a mind to turn around and march straight back to Urû'baen. All of our lives we have been a burden, people have been taught to fear and hate us because of our ties to Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I told you this a long time ago when we had dinner with the King and thrown down in that shit hole of a dungeon, I'm forever doomed to carry the name of one of the most hated men who has walked this earth."

"I understand it must be difficult for you," Eragon said.

Murtagh turned towards him furiously. "How are you—?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Eragon demanded. "How? Don't you remember the past five months? _Five months, _don't you think that I don't know what it feels like to be hated. I know as well as you do, the memories are still fresh within my mind, and Saphira's; don't you forget that."

Brother was staring at brother, sizing each other up and each of them had a glint in his eyes representing the colour of his dragon's scales: blue for Eragon, red for Murtagh.

"Don't you doubt me," Eragon hissed, turning away. "Are you coming or not?"

"I—" Murtagh said, looking at the ground. "No, I won't come. But tell me, why did you hide that fact from me?"

"I ... I didn't want to hurt you," Eragon whispered. "You've been through enough crap."

"Don't you hide stuff like that from me, ok?" Murtagh snapped, storming past Eragon and casting him a filthy look. "I don't deserve that kind of treatment and neither does Thorn. All you were doing was giving us false hope and an illusion to grasp onto."

"I'm sorry," Eragon said in the ancient language.

Murtagh ignored him, striding off in between the tents and not looking back at Eragon once.

_Why did you have to do this, Arya? _Eragon thought bitterly.

_She did what she deemed to be right, _Saphira said.

_I know, but—_

_Arya can understand what it means to be honest, and I think Murtagh understand that too. If anything, Murtagh would trust Arya all the more now because she was the one to stand up and admit that we played a trick on him and Thorn, and a dirty one too._

_You agreed to go through with it._

_Because it was the quickest option, _Saphira snapped. _Eragon, we don't have time to be sitting formally around a table tucked away in a castle and discussing tactics about how to forgive a traitor for the murder of the last of the Riders._

_How can you say that about Murtagh? _Eragon asked.

_To demonstrate a point to you, _Saphira replied coolly. _No other method seems to get to you. All you do is block me, and block me and keep battling on with your own methods. Why can't you understand that we are trying to help you?_

Eragon was rendered mute by her words, and, as they often did, they struck true.

_Thank you, _he said.

_Thank me later, _Saphira said. _The elves have been alerted as to the position of their army, you have two hours before they get here, and I suggest you clean the smell of those horses off you, that won't give you a good first impression._

_For what?_

_For winning their trust back, _Saphira said, _for some of the, what we have done in the name of the Empire is as unforgivable as what Murtagh and Thorn did in the skies above Gil'ead._

* * *

**THE **CALL WENT up well after Eragon had seen the elves on the disk of land between the earth and heavens. He had waited patiently by Saphira's side as the elves advanced, a dust cloud trailing up behind them from the hooves of their horses or from their fee as they flew like angelic ghosts over the ground. Rámir cracked open his eyes, lifting his head and his nose twitched as he scented the air.

Arya was beside Eragon and she slipped her hand into his and he in turn gripped her fingers tightly. "It seems all the more real now," Arya murmured.

"When did it seem like a dream?" Eragon asked.

She smiled at him and he planted a light kiss on the top of her head. He saw Islanzadí give a small, disapproving glance at the two of them out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it.

They were a small party, only the two Riders – Murtagh being true to his word and refusing to attend – the elven Queen and a few trusted advisers. Two Urgals, four humans and a dwarf were also present, representing the other races of the land.

"Arya," Islanzadí said, walking over to them and touching her daughter's cheek. "I have a gift for you coming with this army, and I hope you will accept it."

"A gift?" Arya asked, confused.

"You will see," Islanzadí said, giving her a small smile.

That was all that was said before they returned to silence and watched as the elves drew ever closer. Eragon could feel the slight tremor of the ground beneath his shoes and Rámir got to his feet, shaking his head and ruffling his wings, folding them into a more comfortable position whilst Saphira remained still, her eyes fixed on the incoming warriors.

It was a good half hour before the column was near them and they slowed down as they got close.

"Kvetha," the lead elf said, stepping forwards and touching two of his fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Islanzadí Dröttning," he said.

Islanzadí nodded in reply, touching her lips also. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarínya ono varda," the elf finished.

"I trust your journey went well?" Islanzadí said quickly.

"Yes," the elf said.

"Excellent," the Queen said. "You and your warriors will have two days of rest and then Nasuada plans to keep marching onwards to Urû'baen, and I trust that will be enough time for you to recover?"

"Indeed," the elf said.

"Good," Islanzadí said. "The rest of the elven army are camped on the western side of the Varden, find your solace there and rest well."

"Of course, my Queen."

The elves bowed and started to depart, but one came forward, ignoring the follow of the crowd and squared up to Islanzadí, lifting her chin and touching her two fingers to her lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Islanzadí Dröttning," she said, mimicking the earlier elf.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

"You brought it?"

"Aye," the elf growled. "It took many a good argument for Fiolr to give it up, but I have it here." She unslung a skin from her back which had been rolled up into a tube and unwrapped it. A box was revealed and the elf clicked open the lid to reveal a sword, a sword Eragon had only seen once. "Why doesn't the old Lord understand that the new Rider will be needing a new blade?" Rhunön asked. She turned towards Arya and looked her up and down briefly. "But," she said, "I do not have the necessities or the power to forge a new sword like I did with Shadeslayer, and Támerlein will simply not do for Arya; it is the wrong shape for her body and her style is very different than that of the elf who used this sword. I will need to reshape the blade, and damn whatever Fiolr will say."

_Reshape?_ Saphira asked, confused.

"The blade has already been forged," Rhunön said. "All I am simply doing is revamping it, fixing it so to say. This is my own creation, and since the original owner can no longer use this sword, I may as well recycle it. Besides, the colour matches almost exactly with Rámir."

"How long will you need?" Islanzadí asked.

"If I can forge a sword which has been one of my bestest creations in a single night," the elven smith said, "then there is more than enough time for me to complete this task before the final assault on Urû'baen. I will start tonight."


	66. Chapter 66 -- Closing In

66

**Closing In**

_If all of our days have no more light__  
And all of our dreams are lost tonight  
The stars can all fall and everything turn to grey _

**_– I Will Stay: We Are The Fallen_**

Arya was woken early that morning by Rámir, whispering words gently to rouse her from her waking dreams.

_Come, Rhunön awaits you, _he said softly. _Támerlein has been finished._

Arya opened her eyes, blinking slowly as her mind and body stirred. _Finished?_ she asked slowly.

_Aye, now come, _Rámir instructed. _It's a beautiful sword and it will serve you well._

Arya got up from her cot and her heart was pounding with excitement. She could tell by the amount of time she had spent in her waking dreams that it was still very early in the morning, a time when most of the Varden would still be asleep and she knew why the old elf had called her at such an early hour: the Varden would most likely gather around them to gossip over Támerlein, and Rhunön wanted the transaction to occur quietly to give her some peace of mind; Rhunön had never been one for crowds.

Rámir was nowhere to be seen when Arya emerged from her tent, strapping her soon to be replaced sword onto her belt as she marched through the camp, shoulders back and head held high. She wasn't wearing anything special, just a shirt with pants and soft leather boots encasing her feet, the smith wouldn't care. A dog ran past her and Arya looked up to see Rámir's glittering green scales beside a tent with a smoking fire outside. He turned his head as he felt his Rider approach, blink slowly and turn back towards the tent opening.

"I was waiting," the smith said. She was leaning against the tent doorpost, fiddling with a piece of scrap metal which she quick discarded when she saw Arya approaching. Rhunön retreated inside the tent and called, "Come in here, Támerlein is waiting for you."

_Go on, _Rámir encouraged her. _I've already seen in the sword, and it's a masterpiece of work._

_I'm sure it is, _Arya murmured. She brushed aside the tent flap and stopped when she saw the green sword cradled in Rhunön's arms.

The first difference Arya noticed about the weapon was that it was thinner than it had previously been, although it was clear that its main structure had been kept, but Arya had to agree that it had previously not been fit to her style the night before. Támerlein had been made for cutting and slashing – her style – but the blade had been slightly wrong for her, and if she had taken Támerlein like it had been before, it would have felt awkward in her hands. But this sword, this one was more like the one on her hip.

Rhunön thrust the sword towards her and Arya took it nimbly in her hand, grasping the hilt and flourishing the blade. The blade had been darken a shade, so the colour now matched Rámir perfectly, signifying the green of the tip of his nose whereas the scabbard was a dark green, like the scales on his back. The handle fit Arya's hand perfectly and was made of wood, a leather strip wrapped around to provide a cushioning for her hands. The handle had also been shortened slightly so, like Brisingr, it was now a hand-and-a-half sword. The blunt end of Támerlein had disappeared, the point having been sharpened slightly to make a tip sharp enough to penetrate the hardest armour, yet sturdy enough as not to snap. A groove ran down the middle of the sword and Arya ran her finger down this groove, pausing when she got to the cross guard and bottom of the blade. The elven glyphs which had lined the cross-guard and the actual glyph representing Támerlein had been wiped from both the sword and the scabbard.

"The glyphs?" Arya murmured in confusion.

"Támerlein was not made for you, and would have never been yours," Rhunön said. "This is a new sword, one that has never been seen before and it has a new owner, its first owner. Támerlein no longer exists, this is yours now, and you must name it."

_I wasn't expecting this, _Arya said.

_I was, _Rámir replied. _Well? What do you think would be a good name?_

_You don't have any?_

_One, but you're the one wielding the blade, so you should choose._

Arya brought the sword in front of her, brushing the blade gently with the palm of her hand and narrowing her eyes. _Eragon told me he named Brisingr because of a pattern on the blade, _Arya said.

_I wouldn't do that, _Rámir said, _try and be original. Murtagh's sword is named after what it causes to the person on the receiving end._

_Yes, but I don't like the name given to Zar'roc, _Arya said. _It's too ironic; it not only gives Misery to the victim of its bite, but to the person wielding it, too._

_If that's not pleasing to you, _Rámir said, _then what would be your cup of tea?_

_I was thinking of something, maybe something Faölin said to me once._

Rámir snorted and flared his wings. _Arya, I know how much Faölin means to you, but he's gone. I do not think it prudent to name something after one who is gone, for you must put that behind you and look to the future. Besides, if you name it something along those lines, the wound will not heal and you will mourn his loss forever._

Arya could see the truth in his words and dismissed the idea from her mind. _What was the name you thought of? _she asked him.

_Why?_

_You should have an equal say in this._

_It's because you can't think of anything, _Rámir teased. _But let's not bicker; the name I thought of was last night as I watched the blade being forged, something which struck me but I put aside, and now, now I can't think of anything else._

_What is it?_

_Lorsnad, _Rámir said. _Releaser._

_Why did you think of that?_

_Well, _Rámir said, shuffling his feet and ducking his head and Arya could feel a slight wave of embarrassment across their mental link. _I thought of the dragon's Eldunarí, and how they are part of our very being, and I thought of the sword like your Eldunarí. Támerlein was the Heart for its previous owner, and since it has been forged anew, the soul had been released. And then in battle, that sword would be the Releaser of Life, of flesh and the wounds of the living._

_I don't think that's stupid, _Arya said, rubbing Rámir's head at the same time, _and besides, I think it is a very good name indeed._

"I name you, sword, Lorsnad, the Releaser of Souls," Arya said.

Rhunön uncrossed her arms and nodded approvingly. "I think it a good name indeed," she said. "Releaser."

She held her hands out for the sword and Arya passed her the blade, watching as the old elf laid her palm across the flat of the blade and murmured a spell. A cutting appeared on both sides with the elven glyph for Releaser and she did the same with the scabbard. Rhunön sheathed Lorsnad and passed it back to Arya who then slid the current sword on her belt off the leather band and replaced it with the emerald blade, a comfortable weight on her hip.

"It suits you," Rhunön murmured. "Matches your eyes... It is done, and I hope you are satisfied."

"More than satisfied," Arya murmured. She twisted her hand over her breast and said, "I am thankful for what you have done and I shall wear this blade on my hip with pride. You work has astounded me once more."

* * *

**THE **HORN BLASTED throughout the air just a few minutes after Eragon caught sight of the dwarven camp. Three days had passed since Arya had come to him, a grin on her face and sporting Lorsnad on her hip. The sword was beautiful indeed, the emerald on the pommel catching the sunlight and casting glittering green specks across the ground, but Eragon still thought of Brisingr as the better weapon, possibly because it was his own, and because he had forged it with his own hands, watching Brisingr being transformed from a crude lump of metal into a deadly instrument of war, something created by his own hands. Murtagh had been impressed also, touching the sheath and such, but he had remained silent a great deal of the time.

Eragon was worried about Murtagh, and the only people he had told about his worry for his half brother were Saphira, Arya and Rámir. He thought about this as he listened to Saphira's wing strokes, looking dully at his hands clasped on the spike in front of him, his face brooding and dark.

_Is it Murtagh again? _Saphira asked.

_Aye._

_I'm happy._

_Happy? Why should you be? _Eragon retorted angrily.

_No, you misunderstand, _Saphira said gently. _I'm happy that, even though we spent so much time in Urû'baen with a mountain of lies swimming about our ears and rivers of them flowing through our brains, I'm glad that Galbatorix wasn't able to squash out that caring spark that you show in your personality. I'm happy that you care so much, and I admire you for it._

Eragon met her words with silence, but he let them wash over his being and he smiled slightly. _That may be, I do care about Murtagh's well being, and I'm worried for him._

_Maybe you should apologise._

_Apologise?_

_Apologise for hiding the truth from him about the forgiveness situation, _Saphira explained.

_I've said sorry._

_No, saying sorry isn't enough, _Saphira said. _It was like when you fell in love with Arya; you tried to hide it from me, and sometimes, sometimes you have to suck up your pride and talk to your friends and family, it's what we're here for. Don't hide it, you tried to hide it and the whole thing fell apart; you tried to pursue Arya without asking the help of your friends, not even me. The first thing to do if you have feelings for someone is to ask the people close to you._

_Why are we talking about this?_

_I've strayed, _Saphira said, smiling a little. _The point being that instead of giving a hasty apology to both Murtagh and Thorn like you did the other day isn't enough. Talk to him alone and it helps if he's not as upset as the day the news was broken to him. If you don't want your relationship with Murtagh to fall apart like it did with Arya, it's best to apologise; it'll hurt more if you leave it to later._

_Then when?_

_Tonight, _Saphira said. _Get it over with. And be happy for now, Eragon, you'll be seeing Orik soon enough._

_I suppose, _Eragon smiled sheepishly.

* * *

**THERE **WAS AN uproar as Saphira came into land. She drove her wings down in short, hard strokes and came to rest on the dusty path, back legs first and soon her front legs followed. Eragon stayed on top of Saphira, looking over his shoulder as he waited for Arya and Murtagh to land astride their dragons.

Nasuada and Islanzadí were to his and Saphira's left, along with their bodyguards and they turned around quickly, acknowledging Eragon and Saphira. Soon afterwards, Thorn came into land and Rámir came last, stumbling slightly as he hit the ground and he folded his wings into his sides a little slowly. All of them could see that he was tired; the journey was being hard on him, especially because of his young age. He was no older than six months really, and even though he was a powerful ally in battle, they could all see that his youth and lack of strength was beating him on this long path. He had been sleeping a lot more lately, curling up and closing his eyes in the early evening to be one of the last to rise the next morning.

His head was dipped low now and Eragon extended his consciousness towards Rámir. _Are you alright?_

_Aye, _was his reply. _Just a little ... tired._

_He'll be fine, _Arya said, brushing Eragon's consciousness away.

It wasn't a rude gesture, but he could tell that she didn't want him or Saphira to intrude at that moment. He let them be.

The rest of the Varden army were lining up about two hundred paces behind Eragon, forming into neat rows and slowly, ever so slowly, the sounds of tramping feet ceased if only for a little while.

From within the throng of dwarves before them, one stepped forwards and lifted his chin. He bowed deeply towards Nasuada, Islanzadí and the Riders and dragon each and when the final bow had been completed, he said in a deep, carrying voice, "May I present his majesty, Grimstnzborith Orik! The forty-third king of Tronjheim, Farthern Dûr, and every knurla above and below the Beor Mountains."

The sea of dwarves parted and Eragon was delighted to see Orik striding through the path which had been created for him. The last time Eragon had seen the dwarf was in a scrying mirror at the trail of Lady Lorana, and even then, they had said nothing to each other. Eragon wanted to jump off Saphira and greet Orik, but he held his position. He thought he saw Orik give a small smile to him and Saphira, but the gesture was hidden by his beard.

His beard had been neatly trimmed and freshly washed. Chainmail the colour of star shine glittered around his form, being held in place upon his chest by a beautiful golden breastplate which had been crafted with great skill and care, depicting a gorgon's head, maybe from one of the many dwarven stories surround their race. He wore no gauntlets, instead letting his hands show and upon his head was a helmet matching that of his breast plate, shaped and fashioned like a Shrrg's head, the teeth framing his face. The only visible weapon Orik carried was Volund which had been thrust through his belt, but Eragon knew he always carried a dagger hidden within his shirt. Eragon also caught a flash of gold upon the dwarf's left arm and he warmly acknowledged that he was waering the armband that Eragon had given him as a present at his coronation.

"Greetings, Grimstnzborith Orik," Nasuada said, giving the best bow she could from the saddle and Orik chuckled in reply, also giving a short bow.

"It is also to see you fit and as healthy as ever, Nasuada, kin of Ajihad," he said. "Greetings to you as well, Queen Islanzadí of the Forests. I welcome the both of you warmly into the midst of mine kin and mine army. Let us put aside the differences that mine your races have experienced and the troubles we have run into in the past centuries."

The King's eyes flicked to Eragon and Saphira and Eragon sat up straighter in the saddle. He then became aware of his appearance, having not thought to tidy himself up. He cursed himself silently and muttered a small spell under his breath. A small cloud of grey stiffened itself from his shirt and fell onto Saphira scales, but they were lost against the bright sapphire blue.

He tried to comb his hair quickly with his fingers, but Saphira stopped him. _Don't, it'll only add to your discomfort and embarrassment, _she said quietly to him.

"Rider Eragon, dragon Saphira," Orik said, clapping both of his hands across his chest and bowing deeply. "It gives me great pleasure that you two are safe and amongst our ranks once again."

"We are both grateful, too," Eragon said.

Orik's smile faltered as his eyes caught Thorn's ruby red scales behind Saphira and his face darkened considerably. His hand twitched towards Volund and Eragon's eyes widened.

"Orik—"

"You have much to answer for, Forsworn," Orik growled at Murtagh.

Murtagh's eyes widened in anger and a scowl formed on his face. "Do you think—?" he started angrily, but Eragon roughly pushing him with his consciousness and Murtagh fell silent.

_Don't get yourself into an even worse position,_ Eragon warned him. _It'll make this war harder on all of us._

_Don't you give me shit like that, _Murtagh said, venom in his voice.

_You don't give me that shit either, _Eragon snapped. _We'll settle this later, if you do anything rash now, you'll have a lot more to answer for._

_I don't want to look like a coward hiding behind Nasuada's skirts!_

_Well sometime you have to! _Eragon roared.

Murtagh suppressed a wince as the mental voice revibrated throughout his skull and he looked at his hands, clenched on the front of the saddle.

"Orik," Eragon said, "you talk of peace between our races; then why not give an example here, in front of your kin and subjects? Murtagh was forced to act for the Empire against his will, and I know firsthand of the experiences he and Thorn have gone through over the past few months, for I myself have experienced them. He is not responsible for Hrothgar's death; if you truly wish to avenge our father, Orik, then do not turn your blade or the wrath of Volund upon my brother, but direct that rage, that sorrow, that wrathful anger towards Galbatorix, use it as a crippling blow, send your rage as you would an arrow from its string, and send it to the heart of this blackness spreading forth from Urû'baen, use it to topple the tyrant King."

Orik's eyes narrowed but Eragon held his ground, staring at his foster brother and Saphira joined him in his efforts.

_Grimstnzborith Orik, Murtagh and Thorn are no longer the people who killed Hrothgar. If you don't stand to reason, and if you cannot bear to call a truce with Murtagh and Thorn, do not pass judgement now, save your anger until later, save the fires of torment and rage until later, but I can assure you that they will be extinguished by the time Galbatorix lies bloody and dead. Will you not be satisfied? If not, then I do not know what will quench the fire that burns within you._

Orik's gaze didn't falter, but through Saphira, Eragon could feel Orik's mind turning his partner's words over within.

"Both of their words strike true," Nasuada said.

"Aye, we too have suffered hardships at the red Rider's hands, and that of his dragon's," Islanzadí said. "I can never forgive the sins he has done, I can never forgive the man who spilled the blood of some of my dearest friends, I can never forgive, but we must not hold grudges, or we will slowly collapse from within."

Now Eragon felt the anger and guilt coming off Murtagh and his hands tightened even more.

_I'm not their enemy, _he whispered. _Why can't they see that, why can't they understand? WHY?_

"Because we find it hard to forgive," Eragon murmured so quietly that only Saphira heard him.

_I know, for that is what it means to be alive, _she murmured back.

"Enough," Nasuada said quietly to Orik, "we have had enough conflict for today. As Eragon said, save the fires of battle for the final confrontation on Urû'baen. If we are lucky, we shall hear the sound of the war drums for the final time come Tuesday next."

"Aye," Islanzadí said. She whipped her head around to face her warriors and she cocked her chin. "Let us end this bloodshed," she called. "Let us march to our glory! Let us march to the end!"

* * *

I'm still quite proud I guessed the part about Támerlein correctly regarding _Inheritance_.


	67. Chapter 67 -- Final Frontier

67

**Final Frontier**

_"When it all ends..."__  
When everything fades to grey,  
We dive into the darkness  
Some things are needless to say..._

Some things are needless to say,  
We dive into the darkness  
When everything fades to grey….

**_– Everything Fades to Grey: Sonata Arctica_**

Eragon wanted to go back.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

Not when he was this close, this close to his fear and conquering it, this close to ending this damned war, so close to finishing this whole thing, so close to escaping the nightmare.

_I'm here, _Saphira said.

He swallowed and looked at her, reaching out his hand and stroking his nose gently. They had made camp that morning, sitting five miles from Urû'baen's gate, five miles away where he and Saphira had faced the countless horrors which had plagued the both of them of months. Even though the both of them were free, they couldn't escape the mental pictures and sudden flashbacks and dream which the both of them couldn't escape.

He was looking at the towering city now, with the palace seated on the very top of the jumble of houses, a place where a King could be a god over his citizens. Eragon could pick out the massive gates, reliving the moment when he and Saphira had first entered them, scared, terrified and their hope gone.

_Failure, _he berated himself.

_No, _Saphira whispered. _Never … never._

_But—_

_No, _Saphira said gently, but sternly. _Do not let these doubts run through your mind. That's the last thing you need right now._

From where he was standing also, Eragon could see the farms that surrounded the foot of Urû'baen, abandoned and the fields which had once sprouted with life had withered and died. Weak sunshine filtered through the cloud cover, casting the dying beams upon the black marble of the palace. Eragon could imagine Galbatorix standing on the front steps, gazing out at the camp situated mere miles from his stronghold.

Sensing his thoughts, Saphira flared her wings and arched her neck, letting loose a deafened roar which echoed across the land; a thunderclap shattering the silence. _Murderer! _she bellowed. _We have both suffered greatly at your hands, and I will take pleasure in killing you, ripping you from limb to limb! In my sorrow from after you kill our mentors, I promised I would kill you, that I would rip and tear you to pieces and burn you off of this warm earth! I shall make you suffer for every life you have stolen, every breath which was never breathed by the ones you have killed! We are no strangers to sorrow, we are no strangers to the hole a death of one close to you leaves within your heart, we all know of the burning anger and the desire for revenge if that one was taken from you, but you, you could not! The only way you could soothe that burning wrath was to kill, and kill more! In your anger, you nearly drove a mighty race to that of extinction and killed thousands, and yet you sit on your throne and talk of justice! Nothing can cure the rage in my heart; nothing can quench the burning desire for revenge, to inflict pain upon you until you have paid for your sins._

Saphira's voice had dropped to that of a whispered and her head dipped low to the ground. A small whimper came from within her, her rage had vanished and she was trembled.

_What have you stolen from us? _she whispered.

Lifting her head, the great dragon howled, howled to the skies and the waning sun, her lament, meant for those whom had died, that they had been unable to save, for the lives that Galbatorix had taken, the lives which had been utterly ruined and diminished because of his reign and the grasp of his iron fist.

_I know, _Eragon murmured. He sat down by her feet and she lowered her head, laying it on the ground and she wrapped her body around Eragon, her tail coming to rest by her head.

_We've both come so far, _she said quietly. _So far, and I feel excited. I want to kill, I want to soak my claws into the blood of the humans foolish enough to serve the King, I want to release my anger upon him and his servants, I want to release the souls of the Eldunarí … I want a world safe enough for my hatchlings._

Eragon leaned back against her stomach, instinctively stretching out his hand and pressing his palm against her belly. There was no denying the fact now that she carried eggs within her. Her belly was beginning to swell and she had had a little trouble on the travel to Urû'baen, but Eragon knew that she would not step down in this fight. Saphira had been so highly cherished because she and her Rider were to be the key elements in over throwing the corrupted ruler of the Empire. Rámir was too in experienced, there was no doubt about it. He had been through only one battle in his life, and this one, the final one, was the last frontier. Thorn too wasn't experienced enough. He and Murtagh had lost their Eldunarí, and whilst Murtagh had been through many battles, Thorn had not, and the same was true for Rámir and Arya. The Riders were experiences, the dragons were not, there was denying that simple fact.

_What will we do? _Eragon asked.

_What do you mean?_

_I mean … what will we do when it's all over? _Eragon explained.

Saphira flicked her eyes towards him and sighed, her breath still smoking a little from the early spring chill. _Firstly, we will restore peace to this country, _she said. _The Urgals want to roam freely amongst the peoples of this world, amongst the lands and to not be hunted. They, like everyone, want freedom. But before that can happen, we must find a leader fit to rule._

_Ah, but that's the problem, _Eragon sighed. _Who?_

_Nasuada would make a fine Queen, _Saphira mused.

_That she would, but people would not want a woman in power, you know of how sexist humans are, _Eragon said. _It's taken all her skill and power to get the Varden here. Even though she'll gain support if we defeat the King, she will have trouble keeping it. Orrin I think would not make a King fit to rule over such a vast area of land. You've seen what he's like, I personally think he doesn't spend too much time on his Kingdom, preferring instead to be locked away and experiment with things. We could hand the throne over to the dwarves or the elves, but that would not be the right answer either. It cannot be an elf, that's for certain. This land has seen and suffered at the hands of an immortal ruler. Orik would make a fine King, but I think that humans should be able to rule over their lands._

_Maybe someone from the Council of Elders? _Saphira suggested.

_Ha! Them? _Eragon snorted. _The bastards…. You know what they did to us, Saphira. They ridiculed us; they called our stories lies and wanted to lock us up. Do you want them to rule this country?_

_Their decisions were based on their fear. _

Saphira's answer made Eragon quiet and he shifted in his position.

_I know, _he said quietly, _but they're biased. Their actions were based on Galbatorix and what he has done to ruin this nation. It was based on our actions in the Battle for Dras-Leona, not our past fights._

_Think about this, little one, _Saphira said suddenly, _people based others upon their recent behaviours. From what they've seen, you and I are wild and disobedient, only more enforced because of our stow away a few weeks ago. We're slippery snakes, Eragon, don't you forget that. Because of what Galbatorix has done, and most people in this world do not understand the laws and physics of magic. For all they know, we could have been acting of our own free will, only obeying because we bowed to the dominant power in fear of our lives. How could they have known we were resisting as hard as we could? How could they have known that our chains were not of iron and steel, but of words from a near dead language? You must take these factors into account, little one. That's just being vain._

_Vain? _Eragon laughed.

_You know it to be true, _Saphira chuckled. _We're both scared, I know, but you have to try and put this new found vanity of yours aside. _

Saphira looked around and Eragon could sense through her mind that she could see someone coming. He stood up, walking around the sapphire dragon to wait for the person. Soon, a tired and bedraggled Relath was before him, hands on thighs and panting. Eragon could see the boy was skittish and Saphira words came floating back to him from when they were still in Dras-Leona:

_They have a right not to trust you._

"Relath?" Eragon asked.

"Nasuada and ... the Queen of ... the Elves as ... well as His Majesty ... Orik have requested ... you to be present in ... Lady Nightstalker's pavilion, Shadeslayer and ... Flametongue," Realth panted.

Eragon nodded and he stepped forwards to Relath. The last time he had seen the boy was when he had been delivering him a similar message to him during one of his last breakfast with Roran when he had been ignorantly bliss of the horrors of Urû'baen.

"Relath," he said slowly, crouching down in front of the boy, "I ... I'm sorry for what Saphira and I have done in the past," he started. "I want to know, Relath, are you scared of the both of us? I won't be angry if you say yes, I promise."

Relath's eyes were wide and his breaths were catching in his throat. Eragon could plainly see the answer within his mind, but he wanted to hear it from his own lips. Slowly, he nodded.

"I am," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," Eragon said. He held out his hand and smiled at him. "Friends?"

Relath's lips twitched and he extended his hand, placing his smaller palm inside Eragon's and they shook. Relath met Eragon's eyes for a second and he quickly looked away again, slipping his hand away from Eragon's quickly.

"Friends," he murmured. "I'm scared, Shadeslayer, scared of losing my Dad in the battle, and my two older brothers."

"I'm scared, too," Eragon said. "I'm scared for my cousin, I'm scared for my friends, Saphira, the other Riders and dragons. We're all scared, Relath. It would take a heart of iron to laugh in the face of this battle, and a fool. I can't deny that people will die in the next couple of weeks, as much I hate admitting it, but it's the cold harsh reality of truth. But hey," he said, touching Realth's shoulder, "I'm sure if they've made it through the other battles, they'll make it through this one. You told me you wanted to be a warrior someday, a mighty warrior who would faithfully and skilfully serve his ruler. Why don't you show your family that you can do it?"

He could tell the small boy was warming to him, but there was still that small voice of suspicion in his mind. Relath looked towards Urû'baen and his eyes hardened. "I will, I'll make sure something like this won't happen ever again!"

"Do that," Eragon smiled. He looked towards the camp and frowned, the boy had indeed run a long way, maybe a mile or more. "Come on, we'll go to Nasuada. Do you want to ride on Saphira?"

"Ride on–?" Relath goggled.

"It's alright if you don't want to," Eragon said quickly.

"I wanna!" he said, eyes shining. "You gotta be brave to be a knight, right?"

"I suppose," Eragon laughed.

Relath walked cautiously over to Saphira, stretching forth his nose and hesitantly patting her on the snout.

Saphira lay quiet, watching him with solemn eyes and Eragon came up behind him, going over to the saddle and holding his hand out to Relath. "Coming?"

Relath nodded excitedly and skipped over. He scrambled up Saphira's side and perched himself on her back. Eragon leapt up behind him and settled himself behind Realth, wrapping his arms around the boy to keep him from falling off. Relath swayed in front of him as Saphira got to her feet. She raised her wings and launched herself into the air.

Relath shouted out as he was thrown back, letting a small laugh escape him soon after the first scare had washed over him.

_Keep it short, _Eragon murmured to Saphira.

_Don't worry, _she said.

She wasn't flying high above the ground, maybe only a few hundred feet up and she circled once around the camp, looking for the pavilion.

"It's so high!" Relath laughed.

"It is," Eragon said.

Saphira gently spiralled down, rocking the tents as she came into land from the wind her wings whipped up and landed gently.

Relath's hair had been swept back and he nearly fell of Saphira. A wild grin was in his eyes and he waited as Eragon descended. "Thank you, Shadeslayer!" he rushed.

"It was our pleasure," he replied.

Relath back off a little and when Eragon didn't call him back, he ran off, no doubted about to tell his friends of his adventure.

_Eragon, _Saphira said after a while, _remember how Brom said dragons weren't a source of travel to jazz up a person? Remember for next time that I do not offer free flights to strangers._

* * *

**NASUADA'S **HANDS WERE splayed out on the desk before her. She had managed to get herself a map depicting the surround area, each edge of the map showing the two hundred and fifty miles radius surrounding Urû'baen. Queen Islanzadí, Orik and Nar Garzhvog were gathered around the table, as well as a few other people such as Jörmundur and a few other officers. They all looked around as Eragon entered. He dipped his head towards all of them and he thought he saw Islanzadí give him a small smile, probably aware of the small act of chivalry he and Saphira had shown towards Relath.

Eragon gave a smile back, but otherwise ignored it.

"Eragon," Nasuada said, "I am glad that you and Saphira are here."

As if on cue, Saphira snaked her head in through one of three panels which had been rolled up at the back of the pavilion, resting her head on the ground a few yards from the table.

_Well met, Nightstalker, _she said.

"Aye, well met," Eragon greeted her.

Nasuada waved it away, instead turning her eyes back to the map. "Tell me, have you seen the others anywhere?"

"Nay," Eragon said, coming over and resting a hand on the table. He noticed other maps spread out underneath this one and he took it all in. Coloured chips of glass served as marks and pots of coloured ink were littered across the table and map, each with a quill in the ink. "Why? What of it?"

"We need to talk tactics," Nasuada said simply. "I plan to carry out this battle as soon and as quickly as possible, maybe even starting within the next forty eight hours."

"Two days?" Eragon yelped, surprised.

"Do you object?" Nasuada asked, eyeing him and raising an eyebrow.

"I just think it a little rushed," Eragon admitted.

"Exactly," Orik growled. "Nasuada, that is madness, trying to storm the capital after only two days! We have to prepare so much! Siege equipment, weapons and armour, as well as give our warriors time to rest and recover. Mine honest opinion is that it will lead to our side being sloppy and disorganised. It might cost us the war."

"The hastiness might cost Galbatorix the war," Nasuada countered. "He will not be expecting us to attack so soon."

"That's why you've called me here," Eragon realised, "to talk about how best to defeat Galbatorix and take Urû'baen."

"Eragon, I'm sorry, but we have no choice," Nasuada said.

Eragon simply nodded. "I understand," was his reply. He felt a lump form in his throat, he didn't want to talk about this, yet, he had always known it had been inevitable.

_Rámir approaches, _Saphira said.

Sure enough, the pavilion rocked once again as wing beats sounded outside. Eragon caught a glimpse of the edge of a wing and the flick of a green tail as Rámir came into land, the ground shuddering ever so slightly as the dragon touched down. A minute or two later, Arya was allowed entrance into the tent and Rámir lay beside Saphira.

"Have you seen Murtagh?" Nasuada asked after the two women had greeted each other.

"No, I haven't seen either of them since yesterday night when we made camp," she said.

"Dammit," Nasuada sighed. She was concentrating on the map in front of her now, studying the lie of the land and making swift calculations in her mind. "Look, if King Orrin agrees, we can send him and his cavalry in first," Nasuada murmured, moving a handful of golden chips into the centre of the map in a "V" shape. "The Empire should engage them in battle and then we can send in the dwarves behind to give Orrin and his men support." Nasuada then looked at Orik and he nodded after a few seconds. Nasuada moved a few dozen blue chips in behind the golden ones who were mixed with glass of ruby red in front of Urû'baen, representing the Empire. "The elves should use their bows from as great a distance as possible because of their sheer strength and accuracy as well as range. We can be able to pick off the Empire as they charge into battle and not risk any of your warriors in this method," Nasuada said to Islanzadí, pointing at a line of green chips at the same time.

"And what of my other warriors?" the Queen asked curtly. "I suggest if we move them around here" – she pushed forward a cluster of green chips in from either side to come around the jumble of primary coloured glass to the front gates of the city – "we can then start to break down the gate. We built this city many centuries ago; we know of the spells imbibed within and how to break them; this way, we can get the door down faster and save many lives in the process. At the same time, some of my warriors can work around the city to the Southern gate and start there and vice versa around the other gates. The others who are not engaged in that task can fight here."

"And I can provide backup with my warriors," Garzhvog said, pushing forward some clear glass into the throng.

"No, you should help the elves. The Urgals are just as strong and fast as the elves, and you can provide backup to them," Nasuada said.

"We are not soldiers of stealth," Garzhvog interjected.

"I understand that," Nasuada said, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes at the same time, her mind troubled, "but once, just this once, we need to put aside the honour and glory factor and think about what's the best, fastest and essentially most effective way to win this war."

"Eragon, you are the person here with the best knowledge on how Galbatorix's armies are distributed throughout the city," Orik said, turning the Eragon and ignoring the two bickering leaders.

"Aye," he said.

Nasuada and Garzhvog fell silent, gazing at Eragon until Islanzadí tapped the parchment with a slender forefinger. "Tell us your thoughts on this, Shadeslayer."

"I think that Islanzadí's general idea is good," Eragon said, "but" – he split the larger group of multicoloured glass in the middle and distributed them into four equal piles at each gate – "Galbatorix keeps a little of his army at each gate, and if an enemy is engaging in siege on let's say, the North gate, he will send two thirds of each section from the other gates to fight at the Northern wall."

"Foolish of him," Orik said.

"Ah, but each section consists up of thirty-thousand men," Eragon pointed out.

"Thirty—?" Nasuada spluttered. "How do they all fit within that city?"

"It is vast," Islanzadí said simply, beating Eragon to it. "Although it as not as big as Tronjheim, it is a big city."

Eragon nodded in confirmation.

"Shit," Nasuada swore tiredly, rubbing his eyes and slumping on the table. "Where is Orrin when you need him? We need him here, now."

"He's slightly delayed, Milady," one of the guards said.

"Shit," Nasuada growled yet again. "Pardon my language," she said after a few seconds consideration. "One hundred and twenty-thousand men ... our numbers cannot match, we only have seventy-five..."

"We managed to claim victory on the Burning Plains, and even there we were severely outmatched," Eragon said. "I believe we can do this, we have three Riders and dragons on our side. The combined forces of all our troops and soldiers match far better in skill than that of Galbatorix's army. Each soldier of ours has to kill one or two men each and the day will be ours."

"Milady," someone said outside.

"Yes?" Nasuada called. "Come in!"

The tent flap was swept aside to reveal a man in his late twenties, roughly shaven with a tousle of brown hair. He walked with a limp and his sword caught the lantern light. He gave a grin to Eragon and bowed to Nasuada, and afterwards kneeled in front of Eragon.

"Well met, Shadeslayer," said Robert.

"Why—?" Eragon asked, confused.

"I called for him."

Islanzadí's voice surprised him and he turned towards the elven Queen. "Why, may I ask?"

"Because," she said, smirking slightly, "we need to win this battle at all costs, and we need to severe the attachment Galbatorix has to the Hearts. Robert and a team will go into Urû'baen, find and then destroy them, therefore destroying his vital power source and reducing him to the restrictions of a broken Dragon Rider."


	68. Chapter 68 -- Only Human

68

**Only Human**

_"We're not gods, we're humans … tiny insignificant humans." _

**_– Edward Elric: Fullmetal Alchemist 2003_**

Eragon was glaring at Islanzadí, his hands spread apart on the table and he was shaking. "Why?" he croaked in the ancient language. "That was a secret for the Riders and the dragons only, apart from a chosen few. Why would you tell him?"

"I have the right to," Islanzadí shot back at him. "I did not part with the information lightly, but would you rather lose this war? Listen to my reasoning first before you jump to hasty conclusions, Shadeslayer."

"Hasty conclusions?" Eragon laughed. "That is one of the most protected secrets in this whole land, and yet you hand it out freely?"

"Silence!" Islanzadí thundered. "I shall not be lectured by you!"

Silence fell, but Eragon was still breathing heavily through his nose. How could have she? He felt betrayed, he felt as though the Queen had let down not only himself, but Glaedr as well. The dragon was resigned some peace, was he not? If the information about the Eldunarí became common knowledge amongst the Varden and if later after this war was over, a thief or magician managed to get hold of Glaedr or one of the other Hearts, the problem which they were facing now would just go around in a full cycle.

Eragon did his best to supress his anger, swallowing it and frowning. "Then ... then I would very much like to hear your reasons as to why you have decided to tell Robert," Eragon ventured, still in the ancient language.

The Queen relaxed some, her thoughts smoothing over and her shoulders dropping from their previously locked position in order to assume authority over him. "Apart from yourself, Saphira, Murtagh and Thorn, whom we need out upon the battlefield," she started, switching back to the common tongue at the same time to include the other participants in the tent who could not speak or understand the ancient language, "Robert is the only person within the Varden who has been into Urû'baen. Nasuada has informed me of the extraction effort just shortly before you were captured and I have examined his memories. This man is loyal and he has sworn oaths in the language to never speak of this subject or his adventures within the capital after we have claimed victory." The Queen's icy blue eyes flashed a warning as Eragon was about to interrupt her. "I have covered all grounds necessary, Argetlam. I bid you to hold your tongue, or are in capable of something so simple? I have asked you not once to hold your tongue and still your thoughts and quell your interjections. I must speak, or we will remained locked in such a battle never to disengage and leave each other on a sour note.

"Robert will, during the battle, lead a team of warriors into the city and then destroy King's power source."

Eragon began to laugh; how could anyone think it was that simple to get rid of the Eldunarí just like that? Like blowing out a candle; like snapping their fingers? It was more like building a house of cards on a windy day in the middle of an open field, trying to light damp wood with only a single match, waging a war with a single soldier...

"It won't work," Eragon said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

"Why?" Arya asked.

Eragon looked at her. His violent thoughts and sarcasm vanished as her looked at her.

"That is something I am wondering about myself," Islanzadí said. "Do you really think that we are so idle and stupid as to believe that we can stroll into an empty city and complete a mission which a simple child could carry out? No, one of the most prominent reasons we have called you here is to discuss this topic. Even though you will be unwilling to talk of this subject for a long time, you know of the enchantments and spells protecting these power sources."

"I do," Eragon said, "but do you know how many of these ... gems that Galbatorix has? Close to seven hundred. He does not keep them all stowed away in a single room guarded by a monstrosity of a spell, no he is far wilier than that. He has kept them scattered throughout his palace, guarded and hidden away from sight by these spells you speak of, and each small horde is being kept prisoner by an interlocking crisscrossing network of magic and other such enchantments. They have been specifically designed so that no one other than the King himself can get at these gems and their vast resources of energy, made up of that of his fallen victims.

"I know where two of these hordes lie, and that is behind the throne in his throne room, and the other is guarded day and night by his nightmare of a dragon, Shruikan. Otherwise, my guess is as good as yours."

"What of the spells guarding the gems?" Nasuada urged him.

"These spells feed off the energy of the gems," Eragon explained. "The power resources have nothing, they are broken consciousnesses, and their thoughts merely mull and churn together. They cannot speak, for they are as intelligent as a sheep, nothing more than dumb animals, really. They cannot remember whom they once were, or why they are so sad, yet they cannot speak. The people whom they once were are long gone, faded away with the sands of time."

He saw the reactions of Islanzadí and Arya, bristling with anger and Rámir growled threateningly. Saphira cast him a look tell him to be silent and the younger dragon did so, but his upper lip remained curled, his fangs glistening in the light cast by the three lanterns in the crimson and gold tent.

_It is a sad world, _Saphira said to Rámir. _They would not bend to his will, so he forced them to, save for a precious few whom still had the strength to speak, but they are few in number._

_Dumb … animals?_Rámir whispered. _My kin, how dare he!_

"Many have fallen," Eragon said, "but use your anger and turn it into strength, take out your revenge on the Empire when we face them on the battlefield."

"How should Robert get into the city in the first place?" Orik asked.

Silence fell.

"He could go with one of the elves ranks," Garzhvog suggested.

There were nods and they looked towards Nasuada for confirmation and she nodded. "Very well."

"I will also send twenty spellcasters with him to aid him in this task," Islanzadí said.

"You flatter me," Robert murmured. He limped around the table and bowed to Islanzadí.

She held up a hand and frowned at his limp. "When did you acquire that?"

Robert looked down at his leg and rubbed it, his brow furrowing. "I was shot with an arrow the day we tried to release Shadeslayer and Flametongue from Urû'baen," he said quietly.

Islanzadí held her palm out towards his leg and spoke a line in the ancient language quickly.

Robert flinched and fell back as the magic took effect, a faint light wrapping around his thigh before vanishing. Robert put a hand to his leg and his eyes widened in surprise.

"I … I," he spluttered. He closed his eyes and smiled a small sigh escaping him. "Thank you."

"You can repay me by helping win this war," Islanzadí said. "Stay back afterwards and we will discuss what you will do."

The tent flap opened and they all looked around to see a flustered Orrin enter, irritation lining his face. "Nasuada," he growled, stalking forwards until he was face to face with the Varden leader, "I demand to know why you would attack the Empire in merely two days time. It is simply too early!"

"Greetings to you as well, Orrin," Nasuada muttered, turning away from him. "I have decided to do this," she muttered, "because we will have the element of surprise on our side."

"Bullshit," Orrin spat. "Nasuada, I was late because I was talking with my supervisors about the situation, and the sentries have spotted a horseman coming from Urû'baen to meet us!"

"What?" Nasuada shouted. "When, Orrin? Tell me!"

"Maybe two minutes ago," the King growled, looking flustered and irritated. "Your attack will not give the Empire a surprise, you should know that! The King has spies amongst us, and they will know of your plotting and scheming five minutes after the words leave your mouth!"

Nasuada yelled in frustration and beat the table with her fists, one of the weights on the map jumping and the chips of glass scattered across the parchment flying in every direction.

"Go!" she screamed. "Just … leave me for a minute."

She sat on the table and everyone retreated from the table, moving to the far end of the pavilion before filing outside. The dragons extracted their heads and once the last person was gone, Nasuada began to cry. She never cried, she was a strong woman, she hadn't cracked under the pressure the Trial of the Long Knives had presented, and she had tried to remain strong at her father's funeral and hadn't shed a tear when Murtagh had been captured, but now, now it was different. She could see the truth behind Orrin's words, she could see that.

She was just a girl, barely twenty two. She shouldn't have been leading an army, girls of her age weren't supposed to be engaging in war, they were supposed to be at home, helping their mothers, cooking and weaving for their fathers and brothers, looking after the family, but here she was, at the head of an army.

"It's not fair," Nasuada whispered bitterly to herself.

Her excitement was gone, replaced by fear. Nasuada was scared, they all were.

_"Your attack will not give the Empire a surprise, you should know that! The King has spies amongst us, and they will know of your plotting and scheming five minutes after the words leave your mouth!"_

Orrin's words still rung in her ears and she closed her eyes, tears leaking from under the lids.

"It's not fair," she repeated. "Why?" Her voice had hit a high pitch and she put her head into her hands, trying once again to say the word but finding her sorrow had rendered her mute. She could only sit there and cry, sit there and mouth the single word.

Why had her father died? Why had the Council decided to put _her _in charge? Why … why was it so difficult?

The answer presented itself suddenly and she was ashamed of it.

_Only human. _

Nasuada wasn't a god; she was a tiny, insolent human; a daughter whom had lost both of her parents, looking for a mother's warm touch, a skirt to bury her face in, a shoulder to cry on…. But there was nothing there, of course there was nothing.

_It's alright to cry, _she told herself. _To block out all emotion and have a heart of iron is not the right thing to do like Islanzadí has done. _

Nasuada wiped her nose and dried her eyes, gazing dully at the ground.

It wasn't fair.

Something came floating back to her and her shoulders locked, something her father had said to her long ago when she was still a little girl: _"Life's not fair, and when it gives you a roadblock, it's your choice whether you will be stopped by it, or you will continue around and over it." _

"Over," Nasuada muttered to herself.

She stood up and desperately tried to dry her tears before presenting herself to the world.

* * *

**ERAGON **WAS PANICKING slightly.

_Where the hell is Murtagh? _he cursed.

Knowing Murtagh, he wouldn't have vanished without a reason.

_He'll be somewhere, _Saphira said.

_Where though? It's hard to miss something as big and colourful as Thorn, and we can't see him! Damn them! _

A stray thought crossed his mind but he quickly squashed it; what if they had gone back? Murtagh hated Urû'baen, and his vows to the King had been broken, that was a definite, so where were the dragon and Rider?

_This is the worst of times they could have gone missing! _Eragon hissed.

_I know, _Saphira said, _worry about that later, though, they want us. _

Eragon ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath, still looking for Murtagh both with his eyes and his mind, and, once again, they did not present themselves. The scene in front of them was hectic, people scrambling around to pick up weapons or armour, asking officers where to go and where their battalions were, and such. There was a general air of panic around as well; the atmosphere was thick with it.

"Eragon!"

His head whipped around to see Arya and Rámir coming towards him and he placed a hand on Saphira.

"Nasuada calls," she said quickly.

"I know," he said. "Where are they?"

"Come." She held out her hand to him and his took it, squeezing her fingers and she squeezed them back before they pushed through the crowds.

_It seems that Nasuada is getting her battle, whether Orrin wants it or not, _Saphira said, jumping up into the air shortly followed by Rámir.

_Aye. _

They began to run, outstripping any humans and dwarves they passed easily and headed to the east in the general direction of Urû'baen. The dragons were flying over head and people looked up to see them flying low.

Eragon spotted Orik first, mounted on a fat little pony with a guard of ten to fourteen dwarves around him. He glanced around and nodded to Eragon and Arya as they pulled up beside him.

"Where?" Arya asked quickly.

Orik pointed and their eyes flicked over to see a party coming towards them at a fast speed, flying the flag of the Empire and a white flag, signifying a truce. Eragon squinted, trying to pick out the faces of the people to see if he recognised any of them.

He recognised one.

"Bastard," he hissed.

"What is it?" Arya asked, concerned.

Eragon shook his head. "It ... it doesn't matter. It's one of Galbatorix's underlings."

Arya looked away, not prying any further into Eragon's thoughts and not asking any more questions. He was flustered and agitated now, the fear and the cold claw of dread clutching at his heart. He envisioned a giant black claw with spear like fingers grappling at his insides and stomach, but he squashed those thoughts, too.

_To hell with that, _he thought.

A pounding of hooves behind him caught his attention and he pushed away the claw of fear to see Nasuada and Orrin coming up behind him. Nasuada's eyes were red and he wondered briefly if she had been crying. "When will they be here?" she asked.

"We should ride out to meet them," Orrin said.

Nasuada nodded in agreement and urged Battle-storm forward and the white warhorse galloped off. Orrin followed soon afterwards as did Orik. Saphira landed and Eragon bounded up her side as Rámir landed, lowering his head briefly before Arya climbed up onto the saddle. They took off and flew a couple hundred yards off the ground to a halfway point between the two parties and landed, waiting for the others to catch up.

Eragon was glaring at the Empire's messengers and he was shaking with anger.

_Control your emotions for now, _Saphira whispered to him.

_I am, _he retaliated.

_Good._

The Empire arrived first only by a half minute, the horses being skittish of the two dragons and staying a fair distance away.

"How dare you show your face," Eragon said darkly to one of the men.

The man smiled. "And it is good to see you again."

"Shut the hell up," Eragon hissed.

"Your temper hasn't gotten any better," he commented.

_Nor have my teeth or claws gotten duller, _Saphira remarked to Eragon.

"Eragon," called Nasuada, coming to a stop followed shortly by Orrin.

"Ah, so the famous Lady Nasuada," said the man.

Nasuada scowled and clenched her jaw. Eragon could feel the hate rolling off of her at the sight of the bald man and he couldn't blame her either.

"And you must be the scum of a magician that Eragon has been so kind to tell us so much about," Nasuada shot back.

"Oh? So you know me?"

"By reputation, and not a good one to add."

"But you still know me."

"Hold your tongue," Nasuada snarled. "You come under a flag of truce and I highly doubt it was to simply have a duel with words and a string of insults."

"Yes." The man unrolled a scroll and he began to read. "His noble and greatest majesty, High King Galbatorix has offered you terms of surrender. If you do choose to lay down your weapons and accept defeat, not a single drop of innocent blood will be spilled, but I cannot say the same for you, Nasuada, the leader, or for yourself, Orrin. You shall each be executed for your crimes against the crown and you warriors will be spared. Each will be paid five hundred crowns and given land and five animals of their family's choosing. Their actions will be pardoned and they will go free to live and full and happy life under our valiant King."

The man's eyes were glittering by this point and his gaze shifted further down the scroll. "Give over the Dragon Riders freely, and you will all be set free. You yourselves, Lady Nasuada and King Orrin will each be given an earldom and your actions also pardoned. You will live in comfort for the rest of your lives and your warriors will also be spared. You will be required to swear allegiance to the crown if you decide to take this path. His most gracious majesty has given you more than you dogs deserve."

Eragon could see the doubt coming across Nasuada's face. She was shaking, badly. She considered the Varden her family, and surrendering would perceive her in their eyes as a weak, lily-livered leader, one ill fitted to the job. But it would also save countless lives, and not just of the Varden, but of the other races.

He wouldn't go.

If Nasuada did buckle and give the order, he would not go back to Urû'baen, even if it was Galbatorix himself who had come out to present the terms of surrender himself.

Never.

"How dare you."

Eragon looked around to Nasuada and a fire had ignited in her eyes.

"How dare you offer us riches and wonders when all you would do is cut us down and kill every man woman and child on this campaign even if we gave ourselves in? How dare you think that we did not care enough of our people to consider the risk, to face the fact that lives will be lost, no matter the efforts which we strive to achieve. How dare you give us these options? How dare you call me a coward!"

The man was unprepared for the sudden storm as Nasuada leapt forward on Battle-storm, drawing her sword at the same time and swinging it in a deadly arch. Salcarthar's head went flying to land a good ten feet away from his body which toppled to the ground a few seconds later, a foot still caught in the stirrup. Frightened, the horse galloped off with the body still bouncing along behind it into the distance and the woman turned her head back towards the remained soldiers.

"There is our answer," she spat. "We came here for a war, and a war is what I expect. Flee back to your King and tell him we turn down his offers. Tell him instead of gold, we choose iron and steel and instead of life, we choose to take the risk of death!"


	69. Chapter 69 -- Lest We Forget

69

**Lest We Forget**

_"Come!" said Aragorn. "This is the hour when we draw swords together!" _

**_– The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: J.R.R. Tolkien_**

Nasuada's actions couldn't have been reversed, it was the final straw, and the soldiers of the Varden all knew that they wouldn't be spared, no matter what. This was going to be the fight of their lives. It had been yesterday that the drama had happened between the two parties and the Varden had moved their army two miles east towards Urû'baen and now they stood lined up, facing the black city. Every single person was silent, a crowd holding their breath, waiting. The Empire had also sent its soldier out, the army waiting half a mile away and their spears, helmets and weapons glittering and cast spots of light over the ground, still peppered with early morning frost.

They were ready.

Both sides.

Waiting for the order.

Eragon was dressed in his armour, the shining breastplate reflecting the sun. He had disposed of the armour he had been given by Galbatorix and the dwarves had once again complied to dress him for war, much too his delight and thankfulness. His old armour had been lost to Galbatorix, for he had been wearing that when he had been captured, as had Saphira's armour, one of Hrothgar's final gifts to the two of them; unrecoverable. She had to make do with her natural defences: her hard scales.

Beside him, Arya was dressed in armour also, her leather jerkin hidden by a metal breastplate, her forearms encased in greaves and bracers on her shins. She wore no helmet, but had her hair plated through with leather to add to the stiffness so it would not swing in her face and cause her distraction.

Nasuada rode forwards and turned around to face the Varden. Eragon could see she was trembling slightly, as did her words.

"I thank you." They didn't boom like he had expected, but we timid for her, low keyed and a mere whisper, yet her voice was carried forth over the flat ground. "You have followed me loyally and faithfully, until the end. Today is the day we have been waiting for, for nearly a century. Today is the day when the fate of Alagaësia will be decided, so do not disappoint me. Every single person in this army has overcome barriers, both mental and physical, of great heights, and your hearts and courage have no failed you.

"Many of you will die today, that I cannot change, but I will mourn for each life lost today, and remember even the greatest warrior can fall prey on the battlefield. Keep your wits sharp and your eyes peeled. As I said, do not disappoint me." Nasuada drew her sword and held it up high, catching the sunlight and the blade was lit up. "May this be the last time, I pray this is the last time and the end of these decades of struggle will be decided by the coming of night."

Nasuada turned her back on the Varden and through Trianna standing beside her, contacted Islanzadí saying they were ready. Eragon watched as the line of elves standing around at the back of the army drew their bows, aimed and fired.

It was far too great a distance for a human archer to shoot from, but the elves were another case, the arrows flying well clear over the Varden's head while falling into the masses of the Empire. Screams were heard as the arrows struck, embedding themselves within flesh and bone and after seven more rounds, Orrin's cavalry charged.

The pounding of horse hooves rattled the earth as the army charge, soon following into a V shape, war cries rising from the throats of thousands as the gap between the two armies closed. Half a minute later, the armies clashed with a deafening roar. Screams pierced the air as people were cut down on the front line, impaled by pikes, cut down by swords and trampled by horse's hooves. This was followed by a second wave consisting of dwarves to charge into the fray and add their strength all the while assisted by the elves' arrows.

Eragon climbed atop Saphira, all the while searching for some sign of the hulking black dragon that Galbatorix would no doubt be riding. He also kept an eye out for Murtagh and Thorn.

_Where the hell are they? _Eragon roared.

He really was scared now and a wave of thoughts crossed his mind as to where they could have gone. Saphira too was having second thoughts. Three days had passed since either Murtagh or Thorn had been seen. Had they perhaps gone back to Galbatorix?

_They wouldn't have, _Saphira said.

_We don't know that though, _Eragon growled.

_Eragon? _Arya asked.

_Murtagh and Thorn, _he replied simply. _This is crucial, and we need to know where they are!_

_I know, _she replied hastily, _but we have other things on hand at the moment, alright? _

Eragon's hand strayed to Brisingr and he closed his eyes, sighing. _Arya, they could be the turning point of this battle, we need them. _

There was a sudden, small part of him which jumped up at this moment; he couldn't help it, some small voice inside of him rising from the depths of his mind.

_It's your fault. You kept the truth hidden from them, and now you're paying the price. _

Had they gone of … to sulk?

Eragon bit his tongue. _They couldn't have. _

"Eragon!" Nasuada yelled at him from Battle-storm, "you have to go, we need you!"

He shook his head and glared at the unfolding battle. "Aye."

_Go! _

Saphira jumped into the air and unfurled her wings, shortly followed by Rámir and Eragon could feel the excitement coming off him.

Drawing his bow from the quiver – already strung – he reached behind also for an arrow and saw Arya doing to the same. As the dragons circled high above, Eragon notched the arrow onto the string, the swan feather fletching brushing against his cheek as he scanned for an opponent. He released the bolt and it raced down to earth, the head embedding within the head of one of the Empire's soldiers. He dropped instantly. All the while, his mind was searching for the spellcasters of the Empire, knowing that they would cause tremendous amounts of damage to the Varden if not ratted out. He was aware all the while of his strength, decreasing little by little as attacks were deflected from Roran, Nasuada, Orrin and Orik.

Saphira swerved as an arrow soared up to meet them, deflecting off one of Eragon's wards when it was about to catch her wing. His strength waned a notch.

_Fire? _she asked.

_Fire, _Eragon replied.

Relaying the message to Rámir, Saphira dived and fell to earth, opening her maw at the same time and letting loose the brilliant blue flames. They engulfed the back lines of the Empire's army and soldier's screamed as the flames licked their skin and melted their armour onto their flesh. Several fell down and howled with pain and confusion whilst others ignored the scalding flames.

_Painless soldiers, _Saphira murmured.

Eragon nodded and reached out with his mind once more, looking for a nearby magician.

Whilst in Urû'baen, Eragon had learned more of these soldiers whose pain had been numbed. They had been mistaken when first estimating the soldier's inability to feel pain, and that the spell must be fuelled by a magician, a tactic that worked well simply because as Arya had said when first facing the soldiers, it cost little energy.

Finding two whose minds were connected by a thin thread to a battalion, Eragon began to slowly crush the defences of the magician's minds. They screamed and clutched their heads, trying to desperately fight Eragon off, but to no avail. Even though he had hated it and hated to admit it, Galbatorix had indeed taught him some useful things. How to crush the barriers around one's mind was one of those things, requiring great mental strength and will. Eragon had been able to do this before he had been captured, but never to multiple people. The process also inflicted great amounts of pain upon the receiver, causing the job to be finished quicker.

Cracks appeared and Eragon darted in, muttering two of the twelve words of death and the magicians collapsed. As the spell broke, laughs turned into horrified screams and several soldiers dropped.

_Again! _Eragon roared.

Saphira complied, swooping around like an overgrown bird and dropping once again to blast the Empire with fire. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon could see Rámir doing the same thing, Arya always firing arrows, her hair flying out behind her and her armour glinting in the morning sun. Eragon couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was; Arya reminded him of a war goddess now, but he tore his gaze away from her and Rámir, concentrating on his own battle.

Saphira passed overhead, dipping her claws into the throng and men and pumping her wings at a fast rate, claws turned outwards. Soldiers were shredded by the deadly sharp bone, screaming in pain and Saphira growled in pleasure as the blood laced her scales before flying up again, her wings punctured in a few places where they had bypassed the wards either through sheer luck or due to the fact that the arrows had been imbibed with spells.

Saphira hissed as she flapped her wings, the air stinging the wounds slightly.

"Waíse heill," Eragon muttered and the wounds closed, the membrane knitting together.

Saphira shook her head and pumped her wings before she stopped the movement and fell back to earth, opening them at the last second and causing a sudden wave of air to stagger the soldiers before torching them with the fire in her throat.

A dragon roared.

Saphira's thoughts were questioning, for that had not been Rámir.

_Shruikan? _she whispered fearfully.

_No, Shurikan's roar would be deeper, _Eragon murmured.

A torrent of red flames rained down on the Empire and they screamed.

_Thorn! _Saphira cried.

The red dragon looped back around, exposing his back and Eragon's stomach dropped.

The saddle was empty.

* * *

**ROBERT **WAS TO work with fifteen elves, nine males and six females. He had been a little surprised to find women were going to come into Urû'baen with them but the he had thought of the Queen herself and the green Rider, holding his tongue as he was about to ask. He could also tell that the elves were all but a little arrogant. He knew the reason why: he was a human after all, and they were immortals.

_Don't worry, _he told himself. _I'll do this to claim victory, I'll put up with it; and to avenge Owar. _

The man's death still angered Robert even several months after the unsuccessful extraction of Shadeslayer and Flametongue. Thinking about it, some part quelled inside of him, making his stomach twist itself into knots.

He was going back into Urû'baen.

Images flashed in his mind's eye as well as the sudden spike of pain which had pierced his thigh. He remembered breaking off the shaft and pulling the rest through his leg, grunting with the pain but refusing to cry out. He remembered the reason he had done it was to get revenge on Ari, and now, now this time he entered to get revenge on the other five men whom had died on that day: Harwin, Darl, Alrad, Owar and his commander, Fembor.

Robert relaxed his shoulders and his hand strayed to his sword, closing on the hilt as he tried to calm his heart. His gaze was fixed on the high walls of the city and he could hear the raging battle on the east side of the city, hear the screams, hear the clashing of swords, hear the sound of metal biting into flesh, hear the sound of a mighty beast roaring.

"Are you ready, human?" said one of the elves.

Robert couldn't remember her name, but he knew that she was a vain creature, with starlight hair and piercing blue eyes. She was undeniably beautiful and his stomach had flopped when he had first seen her, but it had quickly dissipated to leave a sever dislike.

"I am ready," he replied, "and I've told you, my name is Robert."

Her lip curled into a smile which was more of a sneer and turned away, her ponytail narrowly missing his nose. Robert wrinkled the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily as he stalked forwards. They were wearing black armour; hastily paint and he had asked why they couldn't simply turn it black with magic. Another had eyed him flatly and replied that it still reflected the light and the only way to ensure their invisibility was the go over the metal with black paint.

The plan was the sneak into the city and past the soldiers before proceeding to Galbatorix's palace. He had also asked why they didn't barge in through the gate or try to kill soldiers, but his toes had been stamped on yet again as they answered that it would alert the Empire that something was amiss in the city and they would be on their guards. His ears had burned when he thought it over, seeing the logic.

The elf turned to face him again once they were about to leave and reached for his mind. Even though this had happened to him a few time now, he still found it slightly disturbing. This was to ensure that they would be found out as the elves would be hiding his thoughts within their barriers it as ensure a way to talk silently. The fourteen other elves slowly came towards the two of them until they were a tight knit group before they then proceeded to the elven commander.

The one thing Robert hated about this mission of his was that, for the first stretch, they would have to be working alongside Urgals. Although the Urgals had agreed to work peacefully along with the other races, the grey skinned monsters still had to yet earn his trust. The memories of what they did at Farthern Dûr still danced within his mind sometimes, even though he hadn't fought that day, he had seen the aftermath of the battle, and heard stories from the warriors whom had fought.

The Urgals themselves weren't happy about the arrangements roaring in anger when Garzhvog had given those orders. The group they were with were to protect them as they charged the North Gates and slip into the city, not for the elves benefit he had learned, but for his own. Robert had felt ashamed and weak when he had figured this out after arguing had broken out between the elves and the Urgals remaining silent with a bowed head. He was also to be given one of the elvish horses for their charge simply because he wouldn't have been able to keep up with the tremendous speed of the elves and Urgals. He also hated that.

_Weakling._

They therefore were currently locked in a stalemate, each giving the other race filthy but unable to do anything about it, knowing that they needed each other if the task was to succeed. The lines were ready, each made up out of elves and Urgals, but each separate, the races dividing themselves by a few feet born out of decades of distaste for the other. At the front of the lines was Islanzadí, her golden armour shining brilliantly in the dawn. She was leading this charge simply because Robert's group needed to be seen safely into Urû'baen. Nar Garzhvog was leading the Southern Gate charge whilst both an elven lord and Garzhvog's brother were leading the charge on the East Gate. Each of the four leaders had been mentally connected together so they would charge at the same time, crucial for their plan to destroy the gems to work

Islanzadí said nothing as she raised her sword, holding off the charge before swiftly dropping her arm. Her charger galloped forward at the shout of a command in the ancient language before the rest of the army charged forward.

"Ganga!" Robert roared as he had been directed, holding firmly onto the horse's mane – for there were no reigns – as it shot forward at the sudden command.

Even though his hand had been tightly wrapped in the thick hair, he nearly fell off at the sudden burst of speed, there being only a cloth on the horse's back; less friction meant more of a chance of falling. The thought of being crushed by Urgal boots and horse's hooves flashed within his mind, but he remembered that the horse wouldn't let him fall and that gave him small comfort.

Both the Urgals and elves were stronger and faster than Robert, and the only reason he was able to stay in his position was because of his horse.

It was when they were halfway to the Gates did the shout go up from within, but with their great speed, Robert could tell they were going to make it before any major damage could be done. Next to him, another elf on a horse raised a heavy looking oaken bow and taking an arrow from her quiver, slotting the groove onto the string and pulling it back before releasing it. It embedded itself in the eye of a soldier on top of the wall and he screamed, blood spouting from the eye socket. He would be dead in a few moments.

Already, he could hear the murmur of voices in the ancient language as the spellcasters from both races started to attack the wards protecting the outer walls. Hatches were opening up from above the gate as they closed in and Robert could spy people with rocks waiting for them, poised and ready to throw.

Robert's heart was pounding in his chest as he drew his sword, holding upright so not to slash the horse. It was a strange thing really, how much he felt alive at that moment in time, his breath catching in his throat and a light igniting in his eyes. His heart was full of rage, wanting to expel it somehow, and the best way to do that was through his sword. Robert wanted to extract his revenge on the Empire, for the deaths of those closest to him, for taking them away from this world, leaving their flesh cold and eyes empty.

_Owar. _

A blast of magic crashed into the walls from the elves as they released their spells. Few of them made an impact, most hitting so from of barrier only to be extinguished quickly. Robert's heart pace quickened. How? Weren't elves the master of magic? Then why was it being so easily blocked? They needed to get in, no matter what.

"Come!" one of the elves called and Robert instructed his horse to turn left.

The stallion obeyed, following the elf out of the fray, difficultly. He had been placed near the edge of the army, but he still had to fight his way to the edge. A small group had broken away, slowly converging around the foot of the walls. Arrows span off of wards as the enemy fired, the bolts having little to no effect. They were ignored. Two elves and an Urgal were retaliating fire, bringing down the Empire's archers quickly and efficiently.

"Robert."

Robert looked over at the sound of his name to see one of the elves looking at him, the silver eyes giving nothing away. "Aye?"

"Stay put, don't go anywhere."

"Can I help in anyway?" he asked.

"No, we don't need your help."

That was another thing that infuriated him; he couldn't seem to help in any way at all. He didn't want to just sit back and watch; how could he? It was his fight as much as theirs, so why couldn't he do something to help, to give some effort?

_Weakling. _

Several minutes passed and nothing much happened. Robert was forever on his guard, his eyes darting around as would a frightened rabbit's and he jumped at the smallest of things. His chest hurt from how hard his heart was pounding and he couldn't sit still. Once, a group of soldiers had spotted them from above and Robert had warned the archers whom had taken them down, but other than that, there wasn't much that happened.

A stone fell from the wall and he looked around, dismay gripping at him when he saw how small the gap was and yet another stone was blocking the way.

"It gets easier from here," one of them explained.

The elf stood up, raising his hand and muttering a word. Dust and debris exploded from within the gap and Robert shut his eyes, raising an arm to block his face from any further harm. He coughed as the cloud cleared away and he looked to see the hole had grown, but it was still small. They would have to crawl through on hands and knees, and yet still, the path was blocked by more stone. How thick were these walls? The hole already extended about fifteen feet in.

"Seventeen feet of solid stone," one of them said, as if reading Robert's thoughts.

Probably.

Once more the magic came forth and Robert was pushed through third. Stone scrapped against his armour and dug into his belly. He gritted his teeth and kept crawling, water dripping onto his helmet and making a dull dripping noise. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the moisture. This was only the first step; they had to remain unnoticed, silent, and a small bit of discomfort wasn't going to halt either him, or his determination to serve out some sort of justice, some little bit of vengeance...

He came out on the other side to find the first two elves through watching him. Robert scrambled upright and cleared the gap, pressing himself tight against the wall and looking around wildly to see if they had been spotted. Soldiers hurried past the street in front of them and the three of them froze, waiting to see if anything were to happen. They didn't glance around; such was their panic that their homes and families would be attack.

"Come," one of the elves said, touching Robert on the shoulder and he started to mutter under his breath, a string of words which were quickly lost, but Robert wasn't listening.

Someone screamed.

Robert looked around, wild eyed as the last soldier in the group looked around to see one of his companions being thrown backwards by an invisible force.

"Jearo!"

It was there for a second, a flash of ruby red.

Blood?

"Who would have penetrated the gates?" the other elf asked, watching the soldiers also.

"Thrysta vindr!"

Once again, Robert shielded his face as the blast of air rocketed through the streets and the soldiers yelled in surprise and pain. All were silenced quickly.

"You should have been less obvious."

Robert looked to see a single man standing in between the houses, wiping his sword on a tunic belonging to a dead solider before throwing the body away. Hard brown eyes fixed on them and Robert recognised the man.

He wore little armour, a chainmail vest covered by a leather shirt, buckled across the back. He was otherwise unprotected, apart from the wards surrounding him, and he had a leather shoulder bag by his side, big enough to house several days' worth of travelling supplies. The sword he wielded was unmistakeable.

"Murtagh," Robert breathed.

"Looking for Eldunarí?" the red Rider asked.

"Why?"

Murtagh shrugged. "This might help you some."

He threw down the bag slung across his body and the contents spilled out; glittering gems of every hue, some no bigger than a clenched fist, others as big as Robert's head, one even bigger.

"Damn," he grunted, "that's heavy."

"Why?" One of the elves had spoken up, and a name floated back to Robert: Dranto.

"Because," Murtagh growled, his eyes flashing, "I am not the fucking enemy! How many times do I have to tell you?" he roared.


	70. Chapter 70 -- The Innocent

70

**The Innocent**

_"...If that's being an adult, then I'm never growing up!" _

**_– Edward Elric: Fullmetal Alchemist 2003_**

Eragon didn't dare open his mind to stretch towards Thorn's consciousness for fear that one of the enemy magicians should slip in a seize control. He was overwhelming curious about where Thorn and Murtagh had disappeared to, but his first immediate feeling was that of relief. Yes, Thorn had shown up in battle and had clearly stated his side by burning the Empire's soldiers to death, but the next priority on his list regarding the red dragon and Rider was Murtagh's location. The easiest thing to do would be to ask the dragon himself, but he couldn't open his mind, not in this situation.

He wanted to yell in frustration, he needed to know!

_We can't take the risk, though, _he growled.

_I know, _Saphira replied earnestly, _but I do hope that Murtagh shows himself soon._

_Shadeslayers! _

Trianna's cry broke Eragon's train of thought and he blink in surprise, automatically swivelling his head around, looking for the source of her voice.

_Trianna, _came Arya's voice.

_Nasuada has requested that you land and help at the front of the fight, _she explained quickly. _If possible, she also sends for Thorn. I must go! Please hurry!_

_We come. _

Saphira looped around and drove her wings forward, releasing a roar at the same time.

Rámir beat her to the ground, crushing soldiers of the Empire underfoot and sweeping his tail around in a circle, the spikes lining the limb transforming into deadly weapons, smiling death down upon those unfortunate enough to be in the way of the bone. Eragon saw Arya fighting in front of the green dragon as he undid the leg buckles. Lorsnad flashed in the light of the rising sun, the green blade sporting patches of red drops giving it a look akin to holy leaves, some sick sort of parody.

Eragon drew Brisingr as he jumped off Saphira after she had landed in the space Rámir had provided and she folded her wings, keeping them close to her body so stray arrows would not snag and break the delicate flight membrane. She opened her jaws and called forth the flames from deep within her throat, bathing the Empire in the bright blue inferno. They were blinded by the sudden light and were quickly cut down by Eragon, Arya and other soldiers whom were quick enough to recover from the bright flames.

Rámir too supplied his fire and soon the scene in front of the Riders and dragons was forever a raging battle of green and blue flames, the colours highlighting and reflecting off armour, swords, shields and other such metal objects.

Eragon was only aware of the soldiers around him, both of the Varden and the Empire. He was aware of Brisingr in his hand, the sword singing with a sheer brutal, savage sort of delight, relishing in the bloodshed as the blade bit into the flesh of its wielder's foes. All the while, he was also aware of his strength as it dropped sometimes suddenly, but most times it was a slow trickle. Eragon had latched his mind onto Aren before entering battle and he replenished his strength and Saphira's from the invisible treasure trove, a last gift from his father.

_Hurry, we need to go, they're going to overwhelm us, _Saphira hissed, swiping her claws and leaving great marks in a line of soldiers charging towards her.

_We don't need to, _Eragon replied.

_Eragon! _

He looked around angrily to see the Varden they were fighting with were indeed being slowly over powered.

_Fine, _Eragon yelled. He jumped atop Saphira and she jumped into the air, unfurling her wings before torching the front line of the Empire.

A cheer went up from the Varden but it suddenly changed, changed into a shout of warning.

_Saphira! _Eragon screamed suddenly, spotting something out of the corner of his eye.

She whipped her head around and darted away as a stone cast by a catapult from inside the city flew towards Saphira.

_Damn, they've started using the catapults? _he cursed. _Damn things. _

Thorn roared from overhead, flying directly towards the walls and Eragon cursed once again under his breath.

_Idiot! _Saphira roared.

Another roar tore through the air and Eragon fought back a shout as a lancing spike of pain raced up his left side. He clutched at it, seeing no wound and quickly checked if something had happened to Saphira. Nothing. He looked down to see Rámir flying towards them, pain shining in his eyes and Eragon could see his side was drenched in scarlet blood.

_Rámir! _Saphira cried.

_Don't worry, _he hissed bitterly. _Thorn... _

It took Saphira all her willpower to not reach out for the red dragon's mind as he sped towards the walls, landing on top of them and raining fire down upon the city below.

_Don't you touch her! _

The mental wave, so strong and so powerful tore through Eragon's mind and he briefly thought of when it had happened once before, when Murtagh and Thorn had attacked on Roran's wedding day and one of Orrin's spellcasters had done the exact same thing, but that had been on pain of death.

_How dare you, filth! Bastards! Scum! _

A confused wave of emotions was raging inside the sapphire dragon but she quickly shook them off. _I can't think about this now, _was what Eragon heard before she slid a barrier between the small gap which the thought had leaked through.

Using the thought which Thorn had unleashed, Saphira latched onto his mind and pulled him to her.

_Saphira! _Thorn cried. _Are you alright? _

_Yes, _she replied curtly. _Storming the walls like that was a stupid thing to do, get back!_

_I am a dragon, _he hissed, _I will not run, for I have run enough from my enemies in my life. Murtagh is in the city! It was a stupid thing to agree to, it was his idea and I went along with it!_

_Why? _Eragon asked quickly. _And what idea?_

_He was angry with everyone thinking of him and I as traitors and servants to Galbatorix, so he wanted to prove it to everyone that he is on the Varden's side. He went after the Eldunarya! He snuck into Urû'baen to steal them from the King, to take away his most vital power source._

_Alone? _Saphira snapped.

_Aye. I couldn't stop him, _Thorn said, a touch of panic in his voice. _He was so full of rage. I can feel his emotions now, they're like a fire storm, never relenting because of the way the elves he met a few moments ago still treat him like garbage. I'm angry, but Murtagh has never been able to keep his temper in check._

_Then where were you? _Eragon asked.

_We don't have time for this! _Saphira interjected. _Rámir's badly injured._

_Arya can take care of it, _Eragon said.

_Yes, but Rámir's nerves have been shaken and he's scared. He's scare of pain, he's scared of dying, and he's scared of losing Arya. He gained that wound from a soldier who was trying to kill her and he jumped to her protection, killing the soldier but not before he was slashed by his sword._

_How did it get past the wards?_

_Arya had to take some of them down, the energy cost was adding up._

_Ah._

_Enough of this chat, _Thorn snapped. He was getting himself together now, flying off the wall and passing over the Empire's ranks. Arrows spun off wards around him as the Empire sent them his way and he responded by sending bursts of fire back to them._ How about you protect your friends instead of talking about them, eh? _

Thorn landed on the Empire, crushing them and he swung his tail around, hitting several of them and sending them flying back into their comrades. His rage was overwhelming; for so long the Empire had kept him and Murtagh under their control and now, now was the time to unleash that pent up anger. Ten months of pain and uncertainty, ten months of a forced service and ten months of pain and agony. Thorn's vision was clouded red and his heart was hammering in his chest. He was shaking for the anger as the memories flashed through his head.

_I am not your servant. _

Slash, another death, another soul released.

_I am not yours to order around. _

A wing flailing out to catch a dozen soldiers and they were sent back, screaming; others died on impact.

_I am not part of this Empire. _

A blinding light.

_I am not an animal. _

Blood.

_I am a dragon. _

Claws.

_I am a living creature. _

Murderous.

_I am free! _

Eragon could feel the raw, bubbling emotion coming off the dragon; Thorn and Murtagh had gone through horrors of their own, at times they had been alone, scared and unable to do anything but pray, hope that everything would turn out for the better, not even able to reach out to the other. They had been suppressed, plucked and pruned to carry out the bidding of a mad man, to ruin the land they loved and turn away their friends and comrades to fulfil a dream of a lunatic; they had been starved, tortured and mistreated at the orders of a false King. It had been hell of a sort, one they would never forget to leave them beaten, their pride broken and shattered to a million pieces.

_Why? _Thorn screamed. _What did we ever do? Why did we deserve such things? Was it fate? Was it written out for me ever since I was an egg? Was it some cruel trick, some disgusting thing set about by a god I will never know of? What did we do?! Nothing! We are innocent; the only thing we have done wrong is being in the worst place at the worst time. How is it fair? Someone answer me that! _

Eragon shook his head and raised his bow, shooting quickly and taking another arrow from his quiver.

_Thorn! _Saphira hissed. _Enough; get up here!_

_I am not finished! _he yelled, fury blazing in his eyes and voice. _Murtagh is the only person I have every true felt a connection with and these people, this vermin did nothing but laugh at us and our misfortune. _

_Save it for later, you will be overwhelmed!_

_When you are given the power, why shelf it and not use it for revenge? You talk about being mature, Saphira, and I want to grow up, I want to be one of the wise, I want to know everything, but if it means holding it back, then I will never want to be like one of the elders! I never want to give up this bittersweet feeling! I am not doing this only for myself, but for Murtagh as well. You know of the horrors and nightmare you and our Riders have gone through, so why are you saying to shelf it? I won't! _

Saphira wheeled back and flew around in a tight circle, open her jaws and painting the soldiers advancing on Thorn in the bluebell flames. _This is not about sating your desires for revenge! _she said forcefully._ Do you want to throw away your life because of your stupidity and recklessness when in battle? If you were to die here because you were lost in the bloodlust, then that is fine, but what about Murtagh? What about our children?! _

Thorn stopped, frozen and his pupils were dilated. Eragon quickly invaded the mind of a solider sneaking up on the ruby dragon and killed him with a single thought.

_You don't want them, they were forced upon you._

_How dare you! _Saphira screamed. _I have always wanted hatchlings and just because they were indeed 'forced upon me', it doesn't change the fact that I will love them as a mother and I dearly hope it will not change your views on them as their father!_

_I..._

_Shut up! _

Rámir's voice cut through the argument and left both of the older dragons silent, staring stonily at each other, oblivious to the raging battle hidden behind Saphira flames.

_I don't care how much you argue later, but for now, why don't you protect each other? _he snapped. _You won't get a chance to raise your hatchlings if you stand there and argue about it! Get your thoughts together and think about the now! _

Saphira didn't look at Thorn as she took off, fury bubbling inside her._ Jerk._

_Rámir's right, _Eragon said.

_Don't you turn on me, too, _Saphira hissed. _Don't you dare turn on me._

_I'm not, _Eragon said, _but Rámir is right._

_I don't give a damn what Rámir thinks right now, _she growled, _I don't give a damn about it. Thorn's attitude..._

_Later, _Eragon said forcefully.

* * *

**NASUADA **WAS WORRIED.

They had been fighting this battle for a long time now, most of the morning had gone by and all around her was death. Humans, dwarves, Urgals, elves; no race had escape from the carnage unharmed. Animals lay silent and still as well; Jörmundur's horse had been killed no so long ago and now he was fighting on foot.

Nasuada's sword was scarlet, hiding the shining metal of the blade. However chaotic is was around her in this sea of blood and death, she was trying to calm her thoughts, to smother her fears and concentrate about what was happening in front of her, but there was one question that kept coming to the front of her mind which she could not quell: where was the King?

That was her fear for the present time, and not only that, but there was the fact that, even though the Varden were by far the better fighters, they were outnumbered. To calm herself of this, she had to remind herself that to win this battle, each person in the Varden ha to kill one and a half soldiers, therefore saying one or two each; was it that much to ask ? But then again, her warriors were being killed as well. Beside her, one of her guard was beheaded, on another, a warrior whose name she did not know was hacked down by three of the Empire's troops.

Nasuada turned away bitterly, striking at an opponent from her perch atop Battle-storm at the same time. Her sword grew darker.

_How can Galbatorix do this? _she thought. _He sends his soldiers out, but he does not show himself. Is he a coward? Or is he waiting for the right time? But his forces are being destroyed, so if he does win this battle... No! We will win! We have come too far to lose now! _

Nasuada yelled as she spurred Battle-storm forward, digging her heels into the horse's sides and he shot forward, carrying his rider into a midst of Empire soldiers and she struck at them, jarring her shoulder and she grunted in pain.

She missed one.

The man swung his axe at her and the warhorse jerked away instinctively, but not quick enough. The blade sliced Nasuada's left thigh and she screamed, losing her concentration and her hand flew at her leg. The axe has continued through on its path and hit the horse in the ribs and he whinnied, rearing back and striking out with his hooves, the whites of his eyes showing the fear course throughout his blood. It hit the soldier in the jaw and his head went back quickly, a snapped resonating through the air signifying that Battle-storm's kick had been fatal and snapped his neck. Battle-storm came back to earth, but he was wild eyed still, unable to ignore the pain running from his side to his brain; Nasuada knew he couldn't ignore the pain, animals can't ignore it and that he would try to escape. A wound this deep would make her horse useless unless she could have him healed, but even so, it would be a while before he came back to his senses. She needed a healer for herself as well.

From when she was a child, Nasuada had learnt that there were several important arteries supplying blood to the leg, and if one of them were severed, she could bleed to death in sixty seconds. The axe had bit deep, and she was sure it had cut through bone as well.

"Trianna," she gasped. "Please ... help."

The sorceress was already there, prising Nasuada's hand away and laying her own there, whispering the words of healing, ones of a long and complex spell. Nasuada didn't know what she was saying, but it soothed the raging fire and a faint glow issued through the woman's fingers. Soon afterwards, the pain was gone, only to be replaced by a deep itch and Nasuada sat up straighter as Trianna proceeded to Battle-storm.

"The Riders and dragons are proving to be leading this whole thing," Trianna said, stepping backwards and fixing Nasuada's eyes with her own. "They have been burning and slaughtering the Empire by the hundreds as of late, a great deal of help to our soldiers, and the numbers are indeed evening out to some degree; the going will be easier."

"How are our numbers?" Nasuada asked.

"We have lost a lot, that can't be denied," Trianna replied, "but the Empire has lost more."

"Good," Nasuada said. She was looking around, watching the stones being cast from the catapults inside the walls and she flinched as she saw a stone being flung from with Urû'baen land on a group of the Varden, crushing them. "Trianna," she said quickly, "tell the Riders that we need those catapults destroyed, they are hurting our chances. Rely also to one of the commanders to bring forth the battering ram and we will start to wear down the doors. If all goes smoothly, the Riders can then over see the destruction of the gate, but tell them, from me, to watch out for themselves, for Galbatorix is indeed a dangerous opponent."

Trianna nodded and closed her eyes, repeating the message. Soon, Nasuada saw Thorn and Saphira – Eragon astride her – fly towards the walls, Rámir leading the way. The green dragon landed atop them, opening his jaws and bringing death to those unfortunate enough to be within the dragon's firing range. Soon afterwards, he disappeared and the stones stopped flying from that point. Thorn was the next over the wall, flying a little further into the city to a trebuchet and smashing it to pieces. Saphira was the last, flying around the city, a constant stream of fire coming from her maw. She was out of sight for a minute or two before coming around again, closing her jaws and flying away quickly.

There were no more stones afterwards.

Rámir reappeared, painting the Empire soldiers in front of the gate with his green fire, a path back to the oncoming battering ram.

_They have oil, _came Arya's voice. _It has been sealed off with magic, so we will have to divert it when the lid is taken off._

_What will you do? _Nasuada asked.

_Tip it backwards, _Rámir replied.

Nasuada rode over to the battering ram, putting herself at the tip of the war machine and cutting down the Empire as they charged forth to stop it. Nasuada let none of them near her past. Other mounted soldiers were doing the same, forming a sort of guard of honour around the battering ram and fighting to get it to the front of the army. The dragons and Riders also helped, occasionally dropping down to deal damage to the Empire before flying back up out of reach as arrows and attention was turned towards them.

That was the main objective now: to get the ram to the gate and start the long and tedious process of beating it down. It was slow going, that was for sure. Nasuada gained more cuts and scratches along the way, one on her cheek, her arm, the back of her hand, the list went on. To her left and right, men and beasts were dying.

Everywhere.

Death.

Deep down in her heart, Nasuada hated it. Even though she knew it was for a good cause, to slaughter people who were with the Empire because they were forced to fight for the King was tearing her apart. She knew that there were many of them, having had the choice, would throw down their swords and join the Varden, but for many of them, that was an unachievable fantasy.

_Dammit. _

They were close to the Gate now, the shelters top of the battering ram covered with arrows and there was the heavy thundering of rocks as they were cast from above and onto the roof. They bounced off and caught a few unlucky people, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once again like it had done a thousand times, the battering ram was pulled back and then released a few moments later. The wood set with roughly cut metal sheets banged into the door.

_"Vermin."_

The single word echoed throughout the area and for once, eerily, silence fell. It was a strange, unsettling feeling.

_"Fools."_

The sky began to darken and Nasuada heard weapons clatter to the ground. A wind picked up.

_"How can you believe that you will be the victorious ones?"_

The silence over the battlefield was broken. A scream tore through the air, that from one of the Varden's ranks. Instinctively, Nasuada looked up to the top of Urû'baen.

On the very top of the palace, almost blending in with the black stone was a dragon. There was a scar present on his nose, a back toe was missing; the eyes were void of pupils. Astride that dragon sat the King, dressed in fine black armour and he held a glittering blade of iridescent purple in his hand.

_"It is time to protect my Empire."_


	71. Chapter 71 -- For An Eye

71

**For An Eye**

_The siege on Eragon's mind abated as the two dragons crashed together, two incandescent meteors colliding head-on. _

**_– Eldest: Christopher Paolini_**

From the very minute since the massacre had begun, this was the first time Eragon truly felt the cold claw of fear grip at him. He knew of Galbatorix's power, both through story and from firsthand experience. His hand flew up to touch the tiny line above his eye, received from a blow from the King, one of the rings adorning his hands catching his brow and leaving the cut. But for Saphira, it was a tidal wave of hate, hate so strong Eragon wondered briefly how she could have summoned it all of a sudden.

_You, _she snarled.

_Saphira, _Eragon warned her, _think before you act; hastiness can get you killed._

_Don't you tell me! _she screamed. _This man, this monster, this cursed devil has destroyed thousands of lives! You know of what happened! The one thing I cannot forgive him for is not for giving me the burden I carry within me, but the thing I truly hate him for, and the thing I will hate him for until my dying day is for hurting you! _

Eragon couldn't help but feel touched by her words.

_Go. _

Trianna's voice was a whisper and it startled Eragon out of his numb state of mind.

_We are all behind you in spirit, Shadeslayer. Go. _

Eragon looked around to see Nasuada and she gave a small nod, a tiny smile. The Varden leader raised her sword and let loose a wild cry. The yell was then taken up by the Varden, a wall of sound rising up behind them and making Eragon's ears ring. His courage jumped up a few steps and his grip tightened on Brisingr's hilt; the sword he held had been made for this moment, he had been chosen for this moment, everyone opposed to the Empire's rule had believed in him; he had friends and family to protect.

_This is the moment, _Eragon whispered.

_A moment of truth – _

_– for us –_

_– for our family and friends – _

_– and for Alagaësia._

_Eragon, _Saphira whispered suddenly.

Eragon paused and laid a hand on her neck, looking at her with concern in his eyes. _Saphira?_

_Before it's too late, _she said, _I just want you to know how much I love you, alright? _

Tears pricked his eyes and he shook them away. _We'll live to say that to each other in the years to come, don't worry. _

Saphira gave a short hum; an agreement.

_No. _

Eragon looked around to see Thorn trembling.

_I dreamt of this once, long ago in a bloody red sun, I dreamt of this day and the terrors that were to unfold._

_Thorn?_

_Never mind, _the red dragon snapped, his tail flicking from side to side.

He raised his wings and, just as he had charged Urû'baen's walls, started towards the King and Shruikan. Eragon could feel the tear in his heart as he flew, roaring and shooting flames from his mouth. He had a right to, as did Eragon and Saphira especially, all three of them had suffered greatly at Galbatorix's hands. Since Murtagh wasn't with him, Thorn's rage had Murtagh's own behind it, but even so, it was a stupid decision on his part to charge Galbatorix on his own.

_Come on, _Eragon growled.

Saphira complied, raising her wings and pumping them down at a furious rate, a murderous glint in her eyes. Rámir followed afterwards.

Eragon was holding Brisingr upright to avoid stabbing Saphira and their hearts were pounding together, they shared their fear, their hate and merged their very beings together, to become as strong as they possibly could, they needed it. The one thing Eragon noticed was Shruikan had not moved, straddling the top of the castle and waiting for them to come. As they got closer, Eragon could see something in the black dragon's eyes: sorrow.

He didn't want to fight them, but he was bound to the King in more than a true name.

As Thorn gained on them, Shruikan raised his wings and jumped off the roof, his claws puncturing a few holes in the stone and Thorn was pummelled backwards from the force of the winds that Shruikan's wings made. Thorn yowled, spinning away before he righted his direction and looked up to see both the King and the dragon flying high above them, towards the cloud cover. Thorn snarled and pumped his wings faster; tilting them also so that he was directed up and so began the chase of the cat and mouse.

Saphira flapped harder, catching up to Thorn and he looked around at her.

_As much as I hate to say it, _she began, _you killed Glaedr and Oromis using the cloud cover. Keep your mind shielded so that they won't find—_

_I did not kill them, _Thorn snapped.

Saphira snorted and looked away. _I know, but you know of the tricks that you used in order to beat my masters. Use them; Shruikan is huge, maybe bigger than Glaedr due to the King's meddling. His size will give him a disadvantage, I remember from our training with him that his bulk slows him down considerably. _

Thorn growled in acknowledgement and took off after the twosome.

_Rámir, did you hear?_

_Yes, _he said.

_Remember what Glaedr has taught you, _she whispered. _Be careful._

_Arya, you as well, _Eragon said to her.

_Eragon, please, I know what I have to do. Remember that I have fought many more battles than you._

_But I have fought more in the cloud than you, _he shot back, a hint of anger in his voice. _Sorry, _he whispered.

Arya nodded, a warm wave of her thoughts touching his mind and he could see that she had forgiven him. _It's alright. _

He needed her condolence now.

Shruikan roared and Saphira nipped into the clouds, scanning the skies with her eyes, for she had dared not to open her mind to all but Eragon, severing her ties with Arya, Rámir and Thorn and they had also done so with the others. The safest way to approach this was to mull amongst their own thoughts and lower the chance of being found. Galbatorix and Shruikan on the other hand had not done so, the black dragon being so huge that there was little to no point, and they knew that.

_The best way to weaken the two of them would be to attack them first with fire and gain an idea of their wards, _Saphira said.

_And we already have some knowledge of the subject due to our capture, _Eragon pointed out.

_Aye, that's true. _

Saphira was flying around in a circle, careful to keep behind Shruikan all the while and he hunted for the three smaller dragons.

_He has wards against fire, the twelve words of death, _Eragon started.

_Wards to prevent objects flying towards him, wards against biting winds, air pressurisation, _Saphira started.

Something that she said gave Eragon an idea. _Saphira, I'm going to try something, but you have to be quick for they will know where we are._

_I will be, _she said.

Eragon raised his palm and spat, "Kveykva!"

A hissing energy came into his hand from the surrounding clouds and he hurled it at the dragon. A boom of resonating thunder sounded in his ears and, to expectations, it did nothing. Shruikan whipped around, but Saphira had stopped flapping, dropping a few hundred feet and Eragon glanced up, seeing an opportunity.

_Bite him, _Eragon said. _Remember what Brom said, armpits are a weak spot, and as well as the hollow of the throat._

_I know, _Saphira retorted.

Before she attacked, Thorn appeared suddenly, his scales catching the sunlight and casting spots onto the white clouds. Thorn roared and bit at the great black dragon after landing on his back leg, digging his claws in to avoid being shaken off and settled to start tearing out mouthfuls of flesh and scales before spitting them out so they tumbled down the thousands of feet to collide with the earth. Shruikan roared in pain and brought his other back leg up, attempting to kick Thorn off. The claws raked down Thorn's side but his snarl increased and he bit down all the harder; Eragon could see though, in his eyes under the anger and hate, a clear message radiating from the vermillion pupils: _I'm sorry. _

Galbatorix on the other hand had brought Blödhald down on Thorn's toes and the red dragon hissed in pain, but refused to let go; a sword wasn't going to dislodge him.

Rámir provided the next attack, smashing into Shruikan's other side but he was battered away with a single swipe of Shruikan's paw, three parallel lines down his neck. Rámir was tossed away, losing his balance as his wings jerked out on either side of him and Thorn was finally shaken off as Shruikan snaked his head around and snapped at Thorn. The red dragon dived away towards the battlefield to regroup his thoughts and prepare for his next attack. Shruikan followed him and now Eragon and Saphira were on top of them and had the full view of the situation; Shruikan was opening his mouth and Eragon could see the flicker of flames dancing in his jaws.

_Quickly! He'll torch Thorn! _Eragon cried.

Saphira didn't need telling twice. She tucked her wings close to her sides and rocketed forward. The impact she caused by crashing into Shruikan's neck caused his mouth to snap shut, severing half of his tongue. Shruikan shrieked in pain, shaking his head from side to side and throwing off the sapphire dragon. He battered her with his wings and the gale caused Eragon and Saphira to tumble towards the ground, but she flared her wings to halt their decent. Once again, they were under Shruikan and the opportunity to strike at his weak areas presented itself a second time.

Saphira soared upwards, aimed at Shruikan's belly and just before she was in striking distance, Shruikan looked around and saw her through watering eyes. He roared and brought his tail around, fury blazing in the black pits and a ferocious snarl carved onto his muzzle. Saphira's eyes widened and she angled her wings to pull away and therefore avoid the spiked club of a tail, but she was not quick enough. She screeched as one of the spines tore one of the wing membranes from the shoulder joint all the way to the bottom, shredding the precious skin. Saphira plummeted, roaring in agony and terror. Shruikan had taken away that one thing that was keeping her aloft so for her, and through her Eragon, it was a freefall with nothing to stop them smashing into the ground.

Eragon yelled in pain as Saphira lost control, spiralling downwards. Wind rushed in his ears and through his hair, the power of the cold air making his eyes water and his nose sting. His heart was pounding in his chest and he briefly wondered how it had not torn through his ribcage in his sheer terror; it hurt. He couldn't heal Saphira's wing, the two separated pieces of membrane were flapping everywhere, so they couldn't be held and knitted together and he couldn't reach them, but he had to heal it, and fast. He could stop them from dying if it came to that, but it would cost him a great deal of energy, both to stop himself, and then Saphira; he would be too exhausted to move.

Blood was everywhere, streaking out behind them and Saphira thrashed, shaking in pain. She was panicking; anyone could see that, she had been overcome by raw instinct, trying to flap to gain altitude, but she couldn't, she wasn't progressing anywhere. The only thing which her struggles did was send her and her Rider spiralling, the force of her flaps being unbalanced. Eragon pressed himself into Saphira's neck, hugging her scales as his brain tried to think of a way out of this dilemma, but his terror was overcoming him. How could he even think of something? All he could hear was the wind, Saphira's desperate calls for help and his heart, racing a hundred miles an hour.

For the first time since Eragon had taken a second chance at flying on Saphira, he was afraid. Every time he had fallen from her, whether if it was mock or if it was in a real situation, he knew in the back of his mind that Saphira would be there for him, to catch him, but not this time... He remembered her wings snapping open and catching the breeze, the two of them gliding to safety and up and away from the disk of land. Not this time...

Eragon sheathed Brisingr and untied his legs from the saddle, an idea forming in his mind. He knew Saphira hated him doing it, and he himself felt uncomfortable in a free fall without her supporting his weight, but there was no choice.

_What are you doing? _Saphira cried.

Eragon ignored her, letting go and he was nearly blasted back at the sudden rush of air, tumbling over and over in the air. He struggled to make his way towards Saphira. She was very far away and he remembered the lessons which Oromis had drilled into his mind, tucking his arms into his side and straightening his legs.

_Lower the surface area of your body. _

Tears stung his cheeks as the wind tore at his eyes. _"Saphira!" _he called both physically and mentally.

She was still falling with no sense of what she was doing, gone was the playfulness she possessed when doing this at other times and Eragon tried to block out her terror. He trembled.

_Hold on, _he whispered. _Please, for me, for the good of the people._

_Eragon... _

As he got closer, Eragon made a wild grab at her tail which whipped past him, missing and when it came around a second time, his fingers scrabbled at her smooth scales before catching a hold one of her spines. Saphira tried to help by pulling her tail around and he held on tightly to her leg.

_Hold on. _

From her leg, he pulled himself along the spikes lining her back until he got to the wing joint and he looked around to see the membrane flapping widely in the wind. If he still possessed the slower eyesight of a human, it would have meant more pain for both him and Saphira, and the job wouldn't be done as quickly, leaving little to no choice about stopping themselves with magic. Her blood splashed out on his face.

Hating what he was about to do, he made a wild grab at one of the membranes. Saphira roared as his hands touched the open wounds and Eragon closed his eyes and swallowed briefly, trying to drown out Saphira's cries and the spike of pain he felt through her. After he regained his composure, he swiped at the other piece and eventually caught it. Now he held the two separate bits in both of his hands.

_Hurry! _Saphira cried.

Eragon shot a glance downwards and his panic grew when he saw how close they were to the ground. It would be a few seconds before they crashed. Magic was his last resort, and he planned not to use it. He struggled to pull the two pieces together, the wind making it difficult. Eragon silently thanked the dragon tattoo and the elves at the Agaetí Blödhren for his strength.

"Waíse ... Heil!" Eragon screamed.

The membrane started to knit back together and Saphira spread her wings, slowing her descent and she caught Eragon's leg with one of her back ones, waiting for her wing to regain a full recovery. Her gratitude came as a dull throb for now and Eragon swung himself up, catching one of her spines, pulling himself onto her back and retying himself into the saddle. His heart rate was calming as was Saphira's as they recovered from the scare. Eragon could feel her trembling her entire length; she, Queen of the Skies, hadn't known the fear of free fall with nothing to catch her weight once she had decided to have enough.

_Little one, _Saphira said shakily, _thank you. _

_Anything for you, Saphira, _he whispered, gulping for air as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Saphira drifted into land for a second, torching some of the Empire's soldiers as they ran up to her and held her wing out, waiting for the last hole to close. Once it had done so, she launched herself back into the skies, shaking off her fear and reminding herself that the scare was over and done with.

A wave of black fire came out of the cloud cover as well as a flash of nimbus green magic from Arya. Eragon heard the clash of a sword a few seconds later, followed by a few dozen more as the two Riders exchanged blows.

_No matter how hard Arya fights, Galbatorix will prevail eventually, _Eragon growled. His urgency encouraged Saphira to fly faster. The blue dragon flapped hard and fast and dived through the clouds. Rámir had latched himself onto Shruikan's side, scratching, biting and burning the black dragon with a blinding fury in his eyes. He was at an angle that exposed Arya and she was fending off the King. Their speed and strength was of equal levels, but Arya was struggling; as Eragon had expected, the King had more skill and finesse in his fighting than her. Shruikan on the other hand was trying to grab hold of Rámir, his claws climbing up his side is he attempted to get to the young dragon.

_His tail, _Saphira pointed out and Eragon looked, swearing under his breath.

The green dragon's tail was swinging from side to side, but he was not protecting it like he should have been, waving it around carelessly and it was only a matter of time before Shruikan would snag it. Saphira flew forwards, flying around Shruikan's head before darting in. The black dragon was easily four times her size, but her small structure compared to that of his was at her advantage. Shruikan drew his head back, opening his jaws and Eragon could see the tongue still gushing blood, the red liquid pooling in his mouth. Fire danced in the back of the dragon's throat and he let it loose, the inferno racing towards Saphira. Surprise was on his face, for he had expected them to have either perished, or to have collapsed from the exhaustion of stopping themselves with magic, the most likely scenario.

"Skölir nosu fra Brisingr!" Eragon spat the words and the fire parted around them, encasing Saphira in a hurricane of midnight flames.

The rush of the fire howled in Eragon's ears, but Saphira kept flying forward and soon, they were released from the dancing fingers of flame which clutched at them but failed to breach Eragon's invisible shield. They were on top of the black dragon. Saphira latched herself to Shruikan's neck and he shook his head, dislodging Rámir and bringing Arya and Galbatorix out of combat. Eragon saw a slice on her cheek which she quickly healed with a word. Lorsnad had some blood spatters on it, but he doubted that it was the King's blood.

Saphira snaked her neck up high and opened her jaws before darting her head forward and towards Shruikan's eye. The black dragon bellowed in pain as she bit and clawed at the soft part of his body, wrapping her tail under his jaw and continuously smashing it against the other side of his face.

_She's trying to get his other eye, _Eragon realised.

Saphira confirmed it with a flick of her thoughts.

"Thrysta Vindr."

They were thrown backwards, Saphira tumbling through the air, her wings jerked out at odd angles and Eragon knew instantly that Galbatorix had been behind the words, but the damage was done, he had not been fast enough to save Shruikan. The left side of Shruikan's face was covered with gashes – Saphira's unsuccessful attempts to gouge out his left eye, whilst she had been more productive on the right side; all that remained now was a socket oozing tears and blood.

_I am sorry, _she whispered bitterly. _I know that you hate him, but now, now we are enemies and I have no choice in the matter. _

Shruikan was howling and he flailed, trying to get Saphira. Once again, his tail came around and Saphira grunted as one of the spikes embedded itself in her thigh. Eragon grimaced. Shruikan ripped the spine out, enlarging the wound and both Eragon and Saphira shouted and roared in pain.

Eragon looked up through watering eyes see the extent of Shruikan's wounds. His face had been healed, but the missing eye he would never recover; Saphira had torn it from his socket and that could not be regrown. The bleeding had been stopped though, but Eragon still felt a twinge of regret as he looked at the black dragon. He had talked to him twice, and both times, Eragon could feel his hate towards the King, and Saphira had told him more than once that he was sad, very sad in more ways than one.

_I wish I did not have to do that, _Saphira said.

_War is war, _Eragon replied.

Shruikan was badly injured, but still he looked towards the three dragons and bellowed with anger. He charged at them, wings flapping at a ferocious rate and his teeth glistening in the morning sun. Saphira swooped around his head, keeping on his right side, his blind side, forever battering him with teeth, claws and blows of her tail. She didn't use her fire; the flames would have been repelled by the wards surrounding the King and his steed, therefore making the attack useless. Hers and Eragon's only weapons were those given to them by Mother Nature and the biting steel of Brisingr.

_We can't get at Galbatorix like this, _Eragon cried after several minutes of combat. He and Saphira disengaged yet again, soaring around out of harm's way and rethinking tactics.

_Are you suggesting driving Shruikan to the ground? _Saphira asked.

Eragon confirmed it with a flick of his thoughts.

A new target set for her, Saphira flew several hundred feet above Shruikan's head, suddenly clasping her wings and dropping on top of the dragon. Seeing what Saphira was doing, Rámir came to help, the both of them dive bombing Shruikan and snatching at his eye. Shruikan growled and pulled away, pulling in his right wing and falling away to the earth. The green and blue dragons followed, Thorn catching on too after a while.

The three of them worked together to drive Shruikan down. Each time, he tried to get above the younger dragons, but they were too many for him to handle, each battering at him and spitting fire when he got too close. What confused Eragon was the fact that Galbatorix did nothing to stop them.

_Is it because it's too impractical to fight us while he's riding Shruikan? _Eragon wondered.

_Possibly, _Saphira answered. She swiped at Shruikan as he once again tried to rise and he yowled as he gained a slash across his muzzle.

_Try and stay on his blind side, _Eragon said.

_I know! _Saphira snapped. _You do not have to tell me, and I have been doing it all this time. _

Eragon glared at her flatly.

Slowly, ever so slowly they managed to get Shruikan a few hundred feet off the ground and he roared in frustration, winging his way south before landing, his wings kicking up a dust cloud before he landed. He was badly injured, blood dripping between his scales and he was shaking down his entire length. His blood was mingled with the dew drops still clinging to the lone tufts of grass scattered under his feet. Saphira flew overhead and landed on the opposite side of the area, landing on three legs and keeping her back leg off the ground. Eragon dismounted and ran around Saphira side, his fingers probing the area.

_Eragon, _Saphira whispered bitterly, _be careful, he could strike you now... _

He looked up to see the King unstrapping himself from the saddle, throwing his sword point first into the earth as he climbed off. He didn't give a second look back at Shruikan and the black dragon growled, raising his lips into a snarl. Thorn and Rámir landed behind Saphira, Arya climbing off her dragon and levelling Lorsnad in front of her, a fire burning in her eyes.

Eragon looked around again to heal Saphira, but before he had the chance, Saphira roared and surged forwards, placing herself in front of Eragon as a blast of wind came from Galbatorix's direction. Eragon's heart was pounding in his chest and Saphira winced, barely holding on with her claws. He covered his ears, screwing his eyes shut as he waited for the gale to cease.

_Eragon, _Saphira muttered. _He ... he's coming._

_Best be ready, then, _Eragon replied. He drew Brisingr and held the blade close to his chest. _Hopefully, hopefully today this sword will fulfil its intended purpose: to depose of him._


	72. Chapter 72 -- Secrets and Revelations

72

**Secrets and Revelations**

_I nearly died,_

_Alone in the dark. _

**_– Everything is Ending: Chameleon Circuit_**

Eragon couldn't help but tremble.

He looked over to see Arya with her eyes closed, her head tilted back and resting on Rámir's side. She swallowed briefly and opened her eyes, looking over to Eragon. Again, they didn't dare open their minds to each other; his only connections were to Saphira and Aren, and through Aren, Glaedr. His heart felt like it had done when he and Saphira were falling: it hurt.

_Saphira?_

She looked around at him and she could see in his mind what he wanted from her.

_I won't go._

_Please._

_I won't leave you to be captured again!_

_I must do this, and I won't be alone; I have Arya. Saphira, I have to do this, for too long I have been fearing this, and now, now I must get rid of it._

_And I will stand by your side until the end!_

_You have! _Eragon snapped at her. _And what about Shruikan?_

_Is that it? You want me to leave you and go and fight a dragon who does not want to be part of the Empire?_

_Yes. _

His blunt answer surprised her and she froze.

_Saphira, you're blocking my sight, and then what? Galbatorix might try and throw you with magic or something to hurt you to get at me. If he can suppress me, then it won't take much effort to get at you._

Saphira howled and stood up, thrashing her tail and shaking. Fire leapt from her mouth and she lifted her wings, jumping into the sky and leaving Eragon in the open.

_Be free; live, otherwise I will lick you for several weeks._

Eragon gave to her a slight nod of acknowledgement and he held his sword out in front of him. Arya stepped out from behind Rámir and the green dragon crouched, showing his teeth and hissing, tail flicking from side to side. A trickle of blood was visible coming from his mouth, mixing with the saliva and foam issuing from his jaws. A small flame came from between his teeth.

"Eragon," Galbatorix said, coming to a halt and lowering his sword to his side, "I have no wish to fight you, and I will give you a chance to join me once again. Together, we were strong, I told you of things you didn't know before, and yet you ally yourself with the people who keep secrets from you. You didn't know who your father was for so long, and yet the people who knew the truth were your closest friends. I would not have kept something from you."

Eragon's mind danced back to the time when Oromis and Glaedr were killed, the King had tried to negotiate with them, but yet they had refused. He shook his head angrily and tightened his grip on Brisingr. There was a surge of words coming up inside him; he wanted to scream and rant at Galbatorix, he wanted to tear the earth up under his feet, cause pain, he wanted to destroy something.

Instead of a tidal wave of insults, instead of hurling at the King every words of boiling anger he could bring to the front of his mind, the only words that escaped his lips were, "You hurt Saphira, and that I will never forgive, never forget."

Galbatorix frowned.

Eragon's courage surged a little. "I saw your dreams; I saw what you want to achieve: peace. What kind of peace? What can you do for this land? You're insane! A twisted, sick bastard! You have slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands and mowed down the lives of the innocent and not lost a wink of sleep! How can you stand there and expect me to accept your invitation? Saphira suffers because of you! In the name of a dream that will never be a reality! You think the people will love you, you think that you will be showered with praise and thanks, and for what? Destroying them? Causing them to live through their lives in fear of your name? You know the truth of what people think! They despise you, as do I! Yet you stand there in all your arrogance, believing that only because you wear the crown everyone will obey you? Ha!

"I said this once and I will say it again: what she think of what you've become? Do you think she'd want to see the monster that lay in the depths of your heart? The one which has slowly eaten away at your mind and soul for the past hundred years and driven you to the plains of insanity? WHAT WOULD SHE THINK?"

That was the point of no return.

Murder ignited in Galbatorix's eyes as he screamed in rage. "Don't you talk of her! You don't know!"

"I don't know?" Eragon yelled in retaliation. "What do you mean by that?"

The final straw.

Galbatorix ran forwards, sword straight in front of him. Despite his armour, he was quick and Eragon lifted Brisingr. The two swords grated together and Eragon stumbled backwards, a snarl carved on his face. He had fought Galbatorix before in mock duels, but it was nothing compared to now. Eragon ducked as Galbatorix swung at his skull, the blade whizzing overhead and missing by a couple of centimetres. Before Eragon could make a counter attack, Galbatorix had changed the direction of the blow and brought it in front of him, inserting the blade in the gap between himself and Eragon before slashing outwards.

Eragon jumped back, but the blade sliced at his side, cutting one of the leather straps holding his breastplate in place and it sagged.

_Shit, _Eragon thought.

He yelled and brought Brisingr around in a tight circle, keeping the hilt close to his stomach whilst repairing the armour with his left hand. Galbatorix blocked easily. Whilst this was happening, Arya launched her attack, springing up behind the King and screaming, Lorsnad held high. Galbatorix spun on his heel and swung at her.

"Don't you dare!" Eragon roared. He wouldn't let him hurt Arya.

Arya flipped over Galbatorix and twisted around quickly on the balls of her feet, jabbing at the King with fire boiling in her eyes. Galbatorix parried, swinging Blödhald in a small circle and catching Arya's blade, forcing it to the side. Arya's face hardened as she kept a firm hold on the hilt, driving it into the ground before lifting her weight onto the blade. The hard ground prevented the blade from sinking as she tumbled over in the air, lashing out with her feet. Galbatorix swayed backwards to avoid her foot.

Eragon once again launched himself at Galbatorix, a war cry coming from his lips. Galbatorix was fast, there was no doubt about that. He slashed at Arya, forcing her to jump away to avoid the deadly arch of the blade before bring it around in a full circle at Eragon. The edge sliced neatly through Eragon's wards, jerking a little when it came into contact and Eragon howled as he was sliced across the side. He fell to his knees, gazing up through furious eyes at the King. Arya cried out and swung Lorsnad, striking from every direction, quick and as deadly as a snake. Every time the emerald blade was to come into contact with Galbatorix's black armour, a sword was there to meet her own.

Eragon spat a glob of blood onto the ground before placing a hand on his side and murmuring the words of healing. Before he was done, Galbatorix pushed Arya away and lashed out at Eragon. He caught Galbatorix's boot under the chin and he was thrown away, landing ten feet from his previous position on an elbow. There was a crunch and Eragon felt a spike of agony coming from his elbow.

"Dammit," he hissed.

Brisingr had flown out of his grip and the blade was stuck into the ground, quivering slightly. Eragon staggered to his feet and ran to his sword, snatching it up and gasping for breath. His side stung and his now slack elbow bumped into his side.

_Heal it._

"Waíse ... Heil," he whispered. He suppressed a groan as the bone repaired itself, the shards snapping back into place and Eragon clenched his hand a few times, raising his arm up and down at the elbow as well before being satisfied the injury was healed.

Galbatorix was still in combat with Arya. A gleam of sweat was present on her brow and she gritted her teeth.

"Why are you fighting for humans?" Galbatorix asked her.

Arya yelled and pushed him away before stabbing at him.

Galbatorix knocked aside her blade with a lazy flick of the wrist. "Why?"

"To rid the world of you," Arya spat.

"You have so much potential," the King sighed. "Your dragon is young, and yet he is foolish. Shruikan, although getting on, can easily beat him. Imagine how much power he can gain if you were to join me... How much heartache you would be spared? Hmm?"

"Enough!" shouted Arya. She lunged at him and their swords locked. Leaning close, Arya whispered, "Don't you talk to me of that. You have killed many people close to me: my father, Oromis, Glaedr, Faölin, Glenwing, and the list goes on. The number will have increased by the end of this battle. How can you stand there and ask me in some civilised manner to abandon my remaining friends and family and side with a traitor like you? How do you have the nerve?"

Arya was pushed backwards and she found her footing, swinging her sword in an arc and pouncing at the King, graceful as a hunting cat. Eragon attacked too, lifting Brisingr high and poised to strike the King down. He had once said to Nasuada that he wouldn't have killed the King even if he had stood in front of him, his blade tucked neatly under his chin, but now, with everything that had happened and the possibility of hurting Arya or Saphira once again, now there wasn't time for mercy.

That had passed long ago.

"Letta."

The single word rang loud through the air and Eragon jerked to a stop, his limbs frozen. He looked around to see the same thing had happened to Arya and she was struggling, crying out in rage.

Eragon looked down to see Galbatorix looking up at him.

"I had thought that I could have shown you the right way of things once again. You had so much promise within you, but then you had to throw it away, to destroy it and turn your back on me. I want to know something: why?"

Eragon spat on the ground and glared at the King. Inside, he was furious. How dare the King think of the situation like this? How dare he ask the question as to why he hated him? Did he really not understand, was his vision of the world so warped that he was not able to grasp of what he'd done? Was this his insanity?

"I know of the things I have done, Eragon," Galbatorix said. "I know of the pain I have caused to both you and your dragon, I know of the things I have done to the people of this land and, like everything, I have a reason behind it: I did it for her."

"For her?" Eragon croaked.

"You of all people should understand."

Eragon looked up to see Saphira, Thorn and Rámir engaged in combat with Shruikan. His stomach squirmed when he saw the results of what was happening: once again, it was fairly evened out, but Shruikan's size and his experience were beginning to shine through. He was surprisingly fast, Eragon had to admit, and he cringed when Saphira was smacked with his tail and she roared. Eragon felt a sharp pain in his arm and he hissed.

"Then," Eragon muttered darkly, "then if you knew of what you were doing, why did you do it?"

"You know why, Eragon," Galbatorix said.

"You didn't want it to happen again," Arya growled, "and so to secure that, you decided to kill them?"

"They did not understand!" Galbatorix snarled. "None of the Elders understood what is was like to have half of themselves gone, to watch the person whom you loved and cherished above all others die in your arms, and yourself helpless to act. That tears at your heart in the future, for now, now you know of the spells that could have saved them! You don't know of that!"

"I know of it," Eragon whispered. "How do you think I felt when I found Brom dying in my arms? I know of what I could have to save him now, but yet I could not; he is dead. You used your anger and turned to it, let the darkness and lies lying in the bottom of your heart eat and deceive you, you threw away the light and let the madness come forth. Many had lost their partners, but they did not turn on the world! They did not kill!"

"For they did not cherish the power of the bond between a dragon and Rider!" Galbatorix screamed. "I was the only one to understand it! You do not know of the tear, I turned away from the world, I begged for the gods, I screamed 'Just let me die, dammit!', hoping one of my fallen enemies would rise once again and strike me down! But fate was cruel and left me alone once again to face the hardships of life!

"I wasn't even allowed to bleed to death, the stars smiled down upon me and laughed at my torment. I howled and crouched in the darkness, waiting for the wound on my back to take my life, but take it, it did not, but instead it left me alive to stumble through the dark, helpless and weak. Three weeks of walking it took before I was found, and I had grasped onto an idea, one that kept me going."

"Another dragon," Arya whispered.

"Indeed," Galbatorix growled.

"How can you think to replace your partner like you would a pair of socks? Throw them out when they've been used and take another?" Eragon cried.

Eragon howled as he was thrown to the ground. Blood pooled in his mouth and he found Blödhald at his chest. Eragon looked the King in the eyes and gritted his teeth.

"How ... _dare _you," Galbatorix whispered.

"We've all had our losses," Eragon said bitterly, "but I again ask you, what would she have thought?"

"I did this for her! I made this Empire for her, and so, when the new generation of Riders comes, nothing like this will happen ever again! Not only did I do this for her in her memory, I did this for the good of the new Riders! They will be spared the heartache of losing their partners, and the land will flourish. I will make sure that both dragons and Riders will have each other for ever! I have made my sacrifices for them; for your good!"

"Our good?" Eragon asked. "All you have brought is more sorrow and more death, the end of the Golden Age."

"Golden Age?" Galbatorix screeched. "If you believe that shit, then help me create something even better!"

"I have asked you three times about what she would have thought of this," Eragon said, "and I can tell you she did not want this."

A burst of pain came from his chest and he looked down to see his armour had been slashed apart, a bright line of blood seeping down his chest, soaking into the shirt beneath and he howled.

"I ... I went to the Vault of ... Souls," he coughed. "The one thing I neglected to mention in the report when we when to Bullridge ... was that the snake spoke to me. It said 'Find me in the place you despair' and I went. I found the Vault and called upon three of the departed."

"Kuthian? He spoke to you?" Galbatorix sneered.

"The first person I called upon ... was my father, Brom," Eragon continued. "He told me of your history, of your drives and desires, of your dreams. The second person I called upon was Vrael. He told me of the true depths of your insanity and your fighting. He told me of instability ... of your mind."

"Vrael was a fool! I defeated him easily!"

"It was because of his mercy that you stand here today," Eragon snarled. "The third person I puzzled over for a while. I did not call upon ... Oromis. I thought long and hard about who could help me the most in this plight ... and it hit me after a while. I stood and I called for the final person.

"The third person I called upon ... was Jarnunvösk."

Galbatorix was motionless. Eragon could see the rage bubbling beneath the surface of his thoughts and he raised his sword and turned away. Instead of releasing his anger upon Eragon as he expected, he turned to Arya.

"Come," he screamed in the Ancient Language.

Eragon's eyes widened as he raised his sword and put it to Arya's throat, turning back to Eragon.

"How dare ... filth like you, a bastard child and son of my enemy, call upon Jarnunvösk!" He paused, looking at the ground and a smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "As you have said, I lost everything apart from one thing, but even still, she was disgusted at what I had become and fled. I lost her then, but you have reached too far, boy. I want to watch you writhe in agony and beg for my mercy. I want to watch you lose everything."

He plunged Blödhald into Arya's shoulder and she screamed. Eragon roared in anger and he heard Rámir screech. Arya coughed blood and the King ceased his spell, letting her fall to the ground and he pushed his foot into the hollow of her throat.

"Stop it!" Eragon screamed.

Galbatorix hissed, an inhumane sound which was more frightening than anything he could have said.

Eragon could see he was going over the edge. His summoning of Jarnunvösk had tipped him beyond his borders. He remembered the ghostly dragon standing in front of him, small and frail. She would have been beautiful in life, but he could see how sad she was.

_Stop him, please, _she had whispered. _I can see what he has done to the world, and I never wanted this. I told him of the Eldunarya so I could see him again. I hate what he has done. Help him. Help the world by stopping him._

_Kill him? _Eragon had croaked.

_It breaks my heart to say so, but ... yes. I love him so much, even though he has caused unspeakable horrors... Stop him._

"JARNUNVÖSK NEVER WANTED THIS!" Eragon howled.

"BE SILENT!" Galbatorix bellowed, his voice breaking. The King was shaking, and Eragon thought he saw a tear roll down his face. "Filth," he whispered.

Eragon crawled forwards and touched Arya's hand, brushing her hair with his fingers and she clung onto him.

Galbatorix looked over them; murderous rage in his eyes, but his face was blank, the blood drained from it. He was in too much shock, too much pain to properly show an expression of sorts. "A death sentence ... then," he whispered.


	73. Chapter 73 -- Fall of Giants

73

**Fall of Giants**

_"You are not God!" _

**_– Death Note Chapter 106: Tsugumi Ohba, Yuuko Asami_**

_As much as I'd like the past to not exist,_

_It still does._

_Run away, run away,_

_One day we won't feel this pain anymore._

_Take it all away._

_Shadows of you,_

_'Cause they won't let me go._

_Until I have nothing left,_

_And all I feel is this cruel wanting._

**_– Lost in Paradise: Evanescence_**

Thorn was distracted for a second at Rámir's outcry. The green dragon was clawing at his throat, whining and coughing though there was nothing there to show why. Thorn looked down to see the twisted-thoughts-snake-King standing with his boot under elf-princess-Arya's throat and he roared. In the moment of his distraction, he missed the moment when Shruikan's tail came around and he shrieked as one of the spikes tore at the soft spot next to his eye. However much he was used to bone-bending-hurt-pain, it was still a shock of the sudden spike of agony he felt on his face. He shut the lid quickly and avoided most of the damage to the weak spot. Blood dribbled in between his scales and he shook his head as the red liquid got in his eyes.

He felt something on his back and his wings jerked as he cried out once again. A foot wrapped itself around his chest and Thorn yowled as he felt some of his ribs crack from the force. He thrashed and whined in pain as he was released, claws and teeth being extracted painfully. He felt as they came out of his flesh one by one and he dropped several feet before he was able to open his wings and fly once more.

Thorn was growling and whimpering as his chest protested, the ribs groaning and sending spikes of bone-bending-pain into his spine as he flapped. He closed his eyes.

_I'm sorry, _he thought.

He began to spiral to the ground, signalling to Saphira and she flicked an eyelid in understanding, turning back to attack Shruikan. He could see the worry gnawing at her heart for she knew and could feel the pain of her Rider, knew of the danger he was in, but yet, she had no choice but to fight Shruikan. Rámir on the other hand was another story.

The green dragon roared, fury blazing in his eyes as he extended his claws, the bone shining in the mid-morning sun as he plummeted towards the tyrant-snake-tongue-King, screeching in anger and fighting off the pain that he felt through Arya. He was injured in several different places where Shruikan had managed to get past his guard, but those were forgotten as he raced to save his Rider.

Galbatorix looked around and saw the incoming dragon, lifting his foot for Arya to crawl to safety.

He raised his hand. "Letta."

Rámir yelped in surprise as he was caught in the air, coming to a stop to remain helpless and yowling at the same time, his tail thrashing.

"You're a beautiful dragon," Galbatorix said, "and it's a shame that you have chosen to ally yourself with the wrong side."

Rámir roared and spat fire at the King, but it parted around him as it hit the word-will-energy-wards surrounding the King. He howled and thrashed, but he was stuck; useless. His howl descended into a whimper as he hung his head, his eyes sorrowful as he spoke to Arya, pleaded her to understand and to forgive him.

_I'm sorry, please, _was the message. _Forgive me... _

Thorn landed, almost crashing and he yowled. His ribs ached and his left leg hung limp. Where Shruikan had managed to get at his wings, the holes in the membrane were dripping blood for it to splash and collect in the cracks and grass on the hard-earthed-ground. His could see a slither of white bone on the third finger of his left wing and he couldn't draw it into his body, it hurt just to move it.

_Get up, _he growled at himself, _you've been through more pain than this, more heartache and suffering; GET UP! _

The simple fact that he refused to accept was that he couldn't. His leg was too badly damaged as were his ribs and wings. The large cut above his eye was hurting and he slowly sank onto the ground, slumping onto his side and he felt light headed, the darkness of exhaustion clawing at him as well as the pains and aches all over his body.

_Saphira... Murtagh, I'm sorry. _

What would happen? What would happen to the ones he loved, who cared for him and thought him not as a monster and a traitor, but as a friend and ally? He had tried so hard, but for what? He was a murderer, he was shunned and scorned by the people who had he tried so hard to help, but had killed so many of.

What would it be like to die? Was it better than this? Was there any pain, any suffering? Probably not... A place without the burdens of life, maybe much like it was in his hard-walled-egg, when he had been blissfully unaware of the world and the pains it caused. It was probably a place where he would free of Galbatorix; that would be nice...

He was nothing; he was to be the father of unwanted children if they were to get through this. Some part of him never wanted to get up again, but he knew he had to. What were to happen to the world if he were to die? Would he be forgiven by the elves, the dwarves? Would it be like he once again within a field of stars, bathed in their radiant light where he had felt so at peace with himself? Maybe it was a field not of stars, but of flowers, lilies or lotuses would be best...

But why would it matter? He would have never known whether he had been forgiven or not.

Was there even an afterlife?

But then again, what were to happen if he kept on living? That would just cause more pain, and he had been through enough pain, he and Murtagh both. But he had people he loved, people he wanted to fight for, a land to protect, lives resting on his shoulders. There were other things to living; hurt, suffering, heartache and pain... Thorn wanted to close his eyes one last time and then open them again to something better, for both him and his Rider. They had it already, friends, and a soon to be family; was living the right choice? What if he didn't die but they lost the battle? What would happen to them? They would be pushed aside once again if the corrupt-dishonest-King were to take them back.

_I can't ... go back to him, _Thorn whimpered, _I've tried so hard and we've gotten so far ... I can't give in! I have to be strong, I cannot give up! I've held onto this dream of mine for too long to only let it slip away from me... Get up! Help them, dammit! _

"_How dare you! I have always wanted hatchlings and just because they were indeed 'forced upon me', it doesn't change the fact that I will love them as a mother and I dearly hope it will not change your views on them as their father!" _

She had been right, how could he throw his children away like that?

_Get up for them, for Saphira, for the people ... for Murtagh. _

Thorn splayed his toes and tried to rise to his feet. Three of the toes on his right foot were broken and his legs were shaking as he got to his feet.

_Stand up ... move forward, for it's not only for my hopes and dreams, but for others, too. To show the Varden ... and the people our true intentions ... protect them! _

Thorn roared and the King looked around at him, at his rage fuelled eyes and his sorry physical condition. Thorn snarled and tried to move forwards, but he was stopped by his ribs and he sank back to earth. His body wouldn't allow it, not matter how much he wanted to. Each of his broken bones protested as he moved and he was breathing heavily, eyes half lidded and his lip was trembling.

_Help us, _he whispered.

* * *

**MURTAGH **WAS DRIVEN to one knee as he clutched at his chest. He closed his eyes and swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat as the sudden agony swamped him. His chest had started to hurt, and from what he could feel, Thorn had broken at least four of his ribs.

"Murtagh?" Robert asked.

Murtagh ignored the older man and spat onto the ground, gritting his teeth at the same time. He had felt the pains Thorn was experiencing throughout his battle with the King and Shruikan and he had stopped frequently to fight back the pain before moving on. He was a hindrance to the group, and he was aware of the elves looking at him in scorn.

Murtagh dug Zar'roc into the floor and used the blade to stand up. He was breathing heavily and leant back against one of the nearest walls, rubbing his chest. Thorn was too far away for him to help and if Murtagh were to try and heal the dragon, it would take too much energy. Thorn could handle things by himself to a certain extent, and he had Saphira and Rámir helping him, right? But he was worried about his partner. He knew about Galbatorix's strength, he knew what the others Riders and dragons were up against, so he couldn't help but feel a twinge in his heart.

"Fuck," he spat. "Dammit..."

"What?"

Murtagh ignored him and he pushed himself off the wall, taking a deep breath and continuing forwards. They had broken into the palace and were searching throughout the complex for a hint of the Eldunarya. They had found a few as well as the ones located behind Galbatorix's throne as he remembered, but it was still nowhere near the total number. It seemed to become hopeless.

"Just ... come on," he growled and Robert nodded stiffly.

His eyes were wary and Murtagh had the impression they were directed at him.

_Probably. _

Lowering the barriers around his mind, he extended forth his consciousness and started to probe the area around him; any living being he met, whether it had been a servant or even a dog or bird, he whispered the words of magic and they crumpled, fast asleep. He didn't care about that for now; all he cared about were two things: finding the Eldunarya and Thorn. Every now and again, he felt the pangs his partner was experiencing and he tried his to ignore the pain.

_You've been through worse before. _

Inside, he was furious; he knew it was war, and in war people died, they got hurt and beaten, driven to their physical and mental limits; he had stated these facts many times in the past, but when it was Thorn who was being hurt... He wanted to snap, he wanted to break something and hurt the person whom had caused Thorn pain.

_Keep going; the only way out of this, for vengeance, for the good of others is to endure this pain, to make my heart strong and to keep putting one foot in front of the other. _

Murtagh swung Zar'roc around in a small circle by his side, a tiny distraction to keep him going as he forced his heart to calm and slow down.

_Thorn... _

He stopped, feeling several people on the edge of his mind and he looked up to see four or five soldiers running down the corridor. They were poorly dressed; one discarding his breast plate at the same time and Murtagh frowned, weren't they running away from the battle? The one in the lead skidded to a halt as he saw Murtagh and his eyes widened in fear. Murtagh brought Zar'roc up into a ready position and the soldier looked around, wide eyed like that of a cornered rabbit.

"Why do you run from battle?" Murtagh growled.

He gulped. "The ... the rebels; they've breeched the walls, they're coming!" he blustered. "I'm sorry for runnin', I'm sorry! Please! Don't kill me! I was forced to fight, see. I have a wife and four children! Please!"

Murtagh shifted through the man's mind, seeing a woman there and three girls and a boy. The man himself was cowering and he fell back onto the floor and onto one of his companions. They scrambled away as Murtagh advanced.

"Please!" the soldier begged.

Murtagh stopped. Two months ago, he wouldn't have hesitated like this... He would have killed them and felt nothing. He berated himself; how could he have sunk _that _low? There had been times when that had happened before Thorn had hatched for him, such as when he had beheaded Torkenbrand, but there had been a reason, but not now...

"Slytha," he muttered and the soldiers tipped sideways, unconscious.

Murtagh was frozen, closing his eyes as he reflected upon his decision. Enough had died today; he wanted to prove that he did have mercy for others, that he wasn't a cruel, cold hearted person. He was human, he could feel pain and he could feel emotion. He wasn't Galbatorix.

"Come on," he said quietly, moving off down the corridor and he opened his mind once again, searching for the tiny flicker of a consciousness that would give away the hiding spots Galbatorix had selected for the Eldunarya.

The Varden had breached Urû'baen, they had done it. Was this war over? Was it won? But what about Shruikan and Galbatorix?

_Help us. _

Murtagh stopped. _Thorn? _he whispered.

No reply came from the dragon, but that had been Thorn's voice, Murtagh was sure of it.

_Thorn! _he cried.

He grappled for his dragon's consciousness, reaching across the thin thread which they shared between their minds until he could feel his dragon fully. It was a weak connection, but it still existed, but what he was no prepared for was the pain. Murtagh doubled over as he shouted out loud, trembling and grinding his teeth as he felt the sudden agony over Thorn's body.

_Thorn? _he asked.

Again, there were no words, but a flicker of thought indicated that the red dragon had heard him. Murtagh could feel how much Thorn was hurting and once again, anger blossomed forth within his chest.

_Look... _

The single word rang through his mind and Murtagh blinked. Thorn groaned and showed Murtagh a tiny memory, a small fragment of what had happened. Rámir was captured in Galbatorix's magic, Eragon and Arya defeated and at his feet and mercy, Saphira alone and fighting Shruikan by herself ... Thorn too beaten and bloodied to do anything, too injured and in too much pain.

Murtagh understood the words which had slipped into his mind before, those two words whispered so weakly he had almost missed them: Help us.

"Dammit!" he screamed. Murtagh hit his knee and screamed again; he was too far away! "Thorn!"

"Rider?" one of the elves asked. "Is there something the matter?"

"Everything matters!" Murtagh snapped. "Eragon and Arya ... they've been defeated! They are at the King's mercy!"

The silence which followed was one of shock.

"Defeated?" Dranto said slowly.

"Yes," Murtagh replied through clenched teeth, "he's going to take us back... I know it." Now fear engulfed him. He couldn't go back. No! Never!

_Do something, _he thought, _anything... _

It was going to be like Gil'ead all over again, watching as events unfolded in front if his eyes and being unable to stop them, unable to bring them to a halt and do things right. He remembered the burning pain along his back and his scar as Galbatorix had invaded his body, using his arm to land the killing blow to the old elf, and then using Thorn to snap Glaedr's neck. He had been chased into a dark corner of his own mind and forced to sit back and watch as the King had had his pleasure in watching the last of the old Order die, and to enjoy the suffering brought to Glaedr at feeling his partner's life be extinguished.

Murtagh howled as he felt a pain across his chest, as if someone had slashed it with a knife and he knew it came from Thorn. He heard the dragon roar in his mind and Murtagh fought back the tears threatening to come forth.

_Helpless... _

He couldn't let Thorn or anyone else die! He couldn't! What would he do? Force Thorn to disgorge his Eldunarí?

Eldunarí...

The flashbacks from Gil'ead came forth again, the branding across his back flaring white hot as Galbatorix had taken over his mind and body. How had he done it? Through the Eldunarya? Probably.

Murtagh was thinking hard, desperately trying to find a way to save his dragon; all the Eldunarya were connected together by a single strand of thought, and that way the person wanting to harvest the power of the gems could access the stone and use the stored energy. Galbatorix had many, and that would therefore mean they were all interlinked. They had a few with them, and the King didn't know.

Kill two birds with one stone.

Murtagh got to his feet and staggered over to Thorn's saddlebag with the Eldunarya in them, flipping open the top and he hesitated.

_I swore I wouldn't use them again. _Murtagh stretched out a hand, his brow furrowed. _But damn that! _

His palm came into contact with a bronze coloured one and the gem flared. Murtagh reached forward with his mind and immersed himself within the Eldunarí; every thought, every dull pain and half constructed feeling entered his mind and he swallowed, ignoring it.

_Interconnected, like a spider's web. _

"What are you doing?" a female elf shouted.

Murtagh licked his lips. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

* * *

**ERAGON **TRIED TO push himself up, but he couldn't, it was too much. He felt back onto his stomach and rolled over, placing a hand on his side. He was too weak, but he couldn't just let Thorn die or be taken once again by the King. He could sense the King's mind surrounding his own, and he didn't dare reach forth for Aren or for Glaedr to access the energy stores, for the King would take him.

"Leave him!" Eragon roared. "What has he done to you?"

Thorn roared as the King swung Blödhald, opening up a gash in Thorn's chest and the dragon dug his claws into the ground, a snarl coming onto his muzzle as he attempted to get up.

"Nú," Galbatorix spat.

Thorn yelped as he was pushed down onto the ground, howling with anger as his tail thrashed.

"Why?" Galbatorix asked, looking around at Eragon. "The reason is simple: he and his Rider have disobeyed me, and I must punish them."

"You can't!" Arya screamed.

"He is a disobedient servant," Galbatorix said, "and I will teach him once again that I am the master. I will break him, and through him, his Rider; like a dog."

Thorn shivered and he began to struggle once again, trying to back away from the violet blade as it was raised yet again.

"Zar'rac!"

Thorn screeched and he thrashed, wriggling and howling as the magic took hold and bathed his nerves in fire.

"No!" Eragon screamed. He struggled to find his feet, to get up and lift his sword, but his arm seemed to be made of lead and the sword suddenly weighed a ton, he was too tired, too beaten and bruised … too weak. "Let him go!"

His shout went ignored and it was more than half a minute later that Galbatorix lowered his hand and Thorn's body relaxed.

"Be quiet!" the King roared, turning back to him and muttering a word under his breath.

Eragon went flying to land several feet away, tumbling over and over before he came to a halt. His body screamed in protest as he tried to raise himself.

Galbatorix was ignoring him, concentrating on Thorn and he raised his hand once again. "All of you, you will be mine once again, you—"

Eragon was taken by surprise as Galbatorix stopped in the middle of his sentence, and a second later, Blödhald slid from his grip to clatter onto the ground by his feet.

"Get—" he whispered, "get … out." He sank to his knees and clutched at his head, eyes squeezed shut. "Damn child!" he screamed.

Galbatorix's body went limp, the fingers or shoulders occasionally twitching until a rasping voice came from the King's throat: "You've … lost. Never touch … Thorn … again!"

"Murtagh?" Arya whispered. She looked confused, but then realisation came across her face and she looked horrified. "The scars … Murtagh's taken over Galbatorix, like he did to Murtagh at Gil'ead?"

"What?" Eragon asked.

"Get out of me!" Galbatorix screeched.

"JIEDRA!"

The single word echoed loudly around the area and several things happened at once. Shruikan, whom had still been fighting Saphira above them, shrieked before his wings jerked and his eyes grew wide, and then he began to fall, leaving Saphira alone in the skies. Rámir was released from the magic he was caught in to crash into the ground and he looked up weakly, his wing at a crooked angle.

Galbatorix screamed and slumped over, his breathing heavy as he started to shake. "Sh-Shurikan?" he whispered. "I-I can't … feel you…"

The dragon crashed two hundred feet behind Galbatorix and he turned slowly around to see the great black beast motionless on the grass, eyes closed and a peaceful look on his muzzle.

"Shruikan?" He sounded like a scared child as he came to realisation that Shruikan was dead and he whimpered. "Shruikan?"

Eragon had a glimmering of what had happened; Jiedra. Break. But break what? There could have only been one thing which Murtagh had meant: break the Eldunarya.

"Shruikan! Jarnunvösk!" Galbatorix seemed to have aged a hundred years in an instant, his body shook as he tried to get to his feet and stumbled towards the motionless dragon and Eragon got painfully to his feet, Saphira landed behind him and he went to Arya.

_Here, _Saphira whispered, energy flowing into him and Eragon laid his hand on Arya's shoulder.

"Waíse heill," he whispered.

New skin flowed over Arya's shoulder and she sighed as the aching left her. She stood up slowly and Eragon took her into his side, the both of them gazing at the King whom was struggling to make his way to Shruikan's body.

"It's sad, really," Arya murmured.

"Yes," Eragon replied in a low voice. "The man whom cause so much fear, and whom managed to create an Empire just cannot understand. Take away the Eldunarya, his power source, and he's just a tired old man."

"So will you kill him?"

"Yes," Eragon whispered. "Most things must come to an end, whether good or bad, he deserves to die."

Eragon reached forth his mind to Aren and bathed himself in the energy inside, soothing his aching muscles and he proceeded to Thorn.

_Kill him ... first, _Thorn whispered as Eragon laid his hand on the dragon. _Please, you ... don't know what he'll do._

_Are you sure?_

_Yes._

_What happened to Murtagh?_

_I ... I don't know, but he's alive, _Thorn said in a soft voice. _Kill him, please._

Eragon turned around and his legs started to move automatically. His hand tightened around Arya's as she followed him, advancing towards the broken Dragon Rider as he made an almost pathetic attempt to get to Shruikan.

Galbatorix looked around as he heard Eragon and Arya coming. "Stay ... stay away!" he shouted hoarsely. "I ... I am your King!"

"You are the broken," Eragon replied. "You've been through so much, and not everyone can live forever."

"You want to ... to kill me?" he asked, and Eragon heard a trace of a sneer in his voice. "Bah! Is that all you can do? After everything I've done? Don't you want to beat me, torture me until I cannot form a single word? Hurt me so badly that I won't be able to feel any more pain? Make me pay for what I've done?"

"No," Eragon whispered, "for those people, people who sought for revenge like that, they are the true monsters of life."

He raised Brisingr and Galbatorix tried to scramble away. "Get away!"

"Brisingr."

The blade burst into flame as Eragon lunged forwards and drove the burning sword through Galbatorix's chest, the sapphire blade piercing his body and emerging on the other side. The King's eyes bludged as he gaped, looking slowly at the sword protruding from his chest before his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped sideways.

He was dead.

The nightmare that had gripped this land was over.

Eragon extracted the blade, staring at the crimson blood leaded on the metal and he gulped.

"Eragon," Arya whispered. "You..."

"I know," he whispered.

He hugged her and she buried her face into his collar bone, fingers curling around his armour as she looked at the body. Eragon was startled to see tears in her eyes. Arya never cried, so why was she crying now?

"So much suffering, so many people dead and families torn apart," Arya murmured. "A century of darkness, caused by a man whom was broken inside and want to fulfil a dream to try and make a better world, but yet so many people had to die for."

"Aye."

Saphira and Rámir crept up behind and they lifted their heads and roared to the skies, and soon, they heard Thorn join in too. As their roars faded away after echoing across the plains unto the city of Urû'baen, a cry, seeming to be a reply from the soldiers came forth, only be caught by their sensitive hearing.

A cry of victory.

The securing of an Empire.


	74. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

For the first time since Eragon had been on the streets of Urû'baen, or anywhere within the capital for that matter, there was the sound of laughter; not laughter that was strained and forced, but real, pure laughter. The celebrations had quickly taken over the solemn tones of battle as men, elves, Urgals and dwarves let loose the worry and fear that had been gnawing at their hearts for most of their lives, if not all in most cases. Wine, mead and beer flowed like water and even though their supplies had been strained on the march towards the capital, the Varden's stocks had been restored from the cellars of Urû'baen. Eragon smiled a little as he saw four dwarves pushing themselves out of a nearby door to only fall on top of each other; a drunken dog pile to lie passed out in the street. Shouts of laughter came from inside.

But for Eragon, it was a victory which was to be taken silently. It had been his goal for a year and a half to kill the King, first springing from a small desire to avenge his uncle's death, to become a fully-fledged campaign against the mightiest Empire to ever grace Alagaësia's soils. If anything, he felt somewhat deflated now; what were he, Saphira and the others to do? He didn't know, he was as stumped as he was when Brom had hurled the question at him in the woods at the back of his farm: _"…What will happen? Will you perish as a martyr? Will you join the Varden? Or will you kill King Galbatorix? All fascinating questions…"_

_I've done it, father, _he thought. _I have overcome the road blocks and climbed the highest of mountains to emerge victorious. But I have not come out clean, I have burned, lied and slaughtered to get to where I am today, whether my fallen enemies had be the Empire or the Varden, the people I had sworn to protect._

Whatever he decided to do in the future, he knew he and Saphira would never be able to fit in again, not after what they had done in the name of a mad man. He knew there were people who would never forgive himself and Saphira, knew there were people crying out for his blood and knew there were people who wanted revenge and would like nothing better than to slip a knife between his ribs. They would never understand, no matter what he had done in the name of justice.

_The world isn't perfect, nothing ever is, to seek something that would be, a utopia, that is a fool's dream._

Eragon frowned; kicking out at a loose pebble nestled between the paving stones and watched it skid and bounce across the rock to come to rest at the foot of one of the staircases leading to the battlements.

"Eragon!"

He turned at his name to see Fisk, Carvahall's carpenter looked at him, a tankard grasped loosely in his fingers. Eragon could tell the man was drunk, a flushed look hung about his face and his eyes were bloodshot, pupils large and he was swaying gently from side to side.

"What's wrong? Ain't ya happy?" he asked.

Eragon nodded slowly. "Aye, but it's just what's happened here and what this place means to me, to Saphira, and to Murtagh and Thorn; this place, it's not a happy place to me, it is a pit of nightmares I have no desire to immerse myself in and visit once more."

Fisk bobbed his head quickly, shrugged and cocked his head. "Drink?" he asked weakly, brandishing his mug.

Eragon shook his head and lifted a hand. Fisk shrugged and walked off, bellowing a song Eragon faintly recognised before tumbling through a door he had presumably come through in the first place. It shut after a stream of drunken laughter escaped it, and a belch.

_How can I celebrate here? _Eragon asked himself.

Fisk had been the sixth person to ask him this, after all his wandering about the streets and drinking in the familiar, gut wrenching sights of the stone housing. Why couldn't people understand that, instead of wallowing in the happiness they were experiencing, all he wanted to do was to fly far away from the capital on Saphira, maybe on an adventure to touch the very stars themselves and fall into their soft embrace?

He looked up and started again when he saw a lone figure sitting atop the battlements, a bottle clutched in their hand. A short figure, dressed in outlandish armour complete with a mountain of frizzy hair. A large cat lay curl up by her side.

Angela grunted as he approached, not looking around at Eragon as he stood behind her. "Pull up a seat," she muttered, poking her foot at a stool. "Mind you don't find any woodlice in the woodwork. If you do, you best hope their blue; the black ones aren't very nice, climb up your pants and nibble your bum."

"Nibble my bum?" Eragon asked, baffled.

Angela shrugged. "World's a funny old place, turns on a tilted axis after all."

"Tilted axis?" Eragon questioned.

"Well the world's round, isn't it?" she laughed, turning towards him to see his bewildered expression. "What? You think it was flat as a rabbit under a Kull's boot? Ha!"

"Round?" Eragon murmured, mostly to himself.

"Uh huh," she said, almost half unconvincingly as she took a small swig of whatever was in the bottle by her side.

"How do you know?" Eragon ventured.

"If you've seen as much as I have, you'd be ashamed of yourself if you didn't know these kinds of things."

"Like what is the best colour of woodlice to find in the crevices of your stool?"

"Exactly! How can one be comfortable around black woodlice when for all they know, they could be crawling through your clothes and nipping at every exposed bit of skin they can find, huh?" she yelled.

"You're drunk," Eragon stated bluntly.

Angela gave a small smile. "Nearly, not quite, though. I have to drink six bottles of this sort of mead to get to that stage."

"What number is this, then?"

"This," she said, brandishing the said bottle, "is number six, but I have not yet finished it, so I have consumed five bottles and two thirds."

"You should stop, then," Eragon said.

Angela placed the bottle behind her and clapped her hands on her knees, looking out at the battlefield stretched out below her where countless dead still remained, both animal and humanoid.

"Is it wrong to hate them?" Eragon asked suddenly, quietly breaking the silence.

"The Empire?"

"Aye. I saw into Galbatorix's mind, and I saw his loss, felt his sorrow and agony, and I supported him somewhat when I was wrapped around his finger. I couldn't stand that hole in his being; I felt so alone, what without Saphira there. Even when we were separated at times like when I was to attend the dwarf's coronation, I knew that she was there, alive and safe, but for Galbatorix, it was a gapping nothingness. But yet I ended the lives of the soldiers fighting for him when I knew they had done nothing wrong on their own accounts. I hated them because they fought for Galbatorix. Was I wrong to kill those people today?" His fists were clenched and he was trembling.

Saphira had gone hunting a few hours ago and had not yet returned; Thorn and Rámir had also gone and Eragon wanted to talk to someone. As close as Arya was to him as well, it just didn't feel right to talk to her, he needed someone else, someone that wouldn't judge him. Angela had filled that spot, seeming the prefect target to just open himself up to and spill out his feelings, his stress and confusion; she would not judge him, he knew that.

"It's not wrong to hate them," Angela muttered. "Even if they were forced to fight, they in turn wanted to harm you, and so, I see it as defending my own life and saving others whenever I take away a man's breath."

Eragon nodded dully.

Angela was humming beside him now, swaying gently from side to side and, on top of the battlements, Solembum looked up at Eragon, blinked once and yawned, curling his tongue before snapping his jaws shut.

_Greetings, _the werecat mumbled in a tired voice.

_Atra esterní ono thelduin, _Eragon replied, lightly touching his brow.

Solembum turned back towards the battlefield and his eyes slid shut slowly, and then, like any normal housecat, he started to purr, a sound he rarely made.

"Solembum's in a good mood," Angela said cheerfully. She looked at Eragon and the smiled dropped slightly from her face when she saw his sombre expression. "Eragon?"

Eragon shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Obviously not," Angela clucked. "Is it the memories?" Her voice had dropped to a quiet tone and Eragon looked at her, surprised.

He nodded once. "Yes."

"I can relate," murmured the herbalist. She absentmindedly reached behind her and picked up her bottle, swirling the contents inside and holding it up so the glass caught some of the dying rays of light and casting them in every direction.

Eragon was once again surprised; she had never said something like this to him, where had that carefree woman gone in only a few seconds? He had never heard that tone in her voice before, and it was if not slightly unnerving to hear her talk like so.

He voiced the question which had floated to the front of his mind now: "How so?"

Angela glowered, placing the bottle down with a _chink_ and her eyes and expression were grim. "I've seen many things in my years, Eragon, and so I have experienced this many a—"

"Then tell me the thing which was brought to your mind at first when you talk of the subject of being an outcast," proffered Eragon.

Angela's curls bounced as she hung her head, emitting a small laugh at the same while. "I wonder if you would see me in the same light if I told you?"

"Then let us find out," Eragon said, lacing his fingers together and placing them on his knee. "How can I know if—?"

Now it was the woman's turn to interrupt him: "Galbatorix ... ah, it's difficult." She threw her head back and gazed at the faint stars, winking down on the both of them.

Eragon was patient, waiting for her to continue if she ever decided. He had come to respect people's privacy, but not as much as he had done before his and Saphira's capture, he had been so used to ordering people around...

"Galbatorix was my older brother," she murmured.

Eragon's mouth dropped open. "So he was talking about you."

Angela frowned. "Pardon me?"

"He kept mentioning a sister when I was in his company," Eragon said, standing up and ruffling his hair. "And when he was fighting me today, he said '... I lost everything apart from one thing, but even still, she was disgusted at what I had become and fled', so he was talking about you!"

"Where's the disgust!" Angela cried out, throwing up her arms and rising to her feet. "Where's you running off to Nasuada screaming that I'm a blood relation to the King?!"

Eragon stopped. "Because," he muttered, "because Galbatorix told me all the things I need to know to prove you wanting nothing to do with him."

"Eh?"

"Like I just said," Eragon explained, "and there were other times when he mentioned his sister – you – turning from him because of his insanity. He talked about you in the most wonderful, stupid and funny ways."

Angela cocked her head and crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

Eragon waved a hand. "Later," he said, "but I have another question: Galbatorix was a hundred and thirty three, how are you still alive? And how old are you?"

"He was three years older than me," Angela said, "so I'm one hundred and thirty, and as you've already pointed out, we had a close relationship before Jarnunvösk died, and when I failed to become a Rider when I was ten, he was very upset, so he flew out to see me." Angela's speech was quiet and her eyes were glazed, as if she were reliving some distant memory. "He knew that he was going to live for a lot longer than me, and Jarnunvösk, well, you've seen Saphira wrought extraordinary wonders with magic, and Jarnunvösk did as well when experiencing her Rider's sorrow. She touched me on my collarbone, here, right above my heart..." Angela slapped herself above her sternum and gave a bitter smile. "She gave me the gift of long life, so I would live twice as long as an ordinary man, so Galbatorix would not grieve for my passing for a good long while, so he and I could stay together for as long as possible."

"A gift akin to what Saphira gave Elva? A blessing?"

"You could say," Angela shrugged, "but to be terribly honest, I never really wanted to live for ages and ages, but you get what you're given." She sniffed and puffed out her chest, giving a sideways glance at Eragon along with a wholehearted smile. "You're the only person who knows who I truly am apart from Solembum, you know?"

Eragon felt honoured and he bowed. "I won't tell another person."

"You can tell Saphira," Angela smiled, "but no one else, please. And now, I have a question for you: why have you not run off with this precious information?"

"Because if I can get along with the son of Morzan," Eragon reasoned, "I suppose I can make some room for the sister of Galbatorix."

"Ta!" Angela exclaimed. She gave him and sharp pat on the head, picked up stool and bottle and whistled at Solembum who stretched and yawned. "Well, I've given you enough to ponder, good night! And remember to watch out for pheasant droppings!" With that, she walked past him and started down the stone staircase from the battlements, leaving Eragon alone.

He smiled, shaking his head at the same time. _I finally got one answer I've been looking for, for a long while._

Eragon hadn't been looking for it when he had first spotted Angela atop the battlements, he had been looking a person to whom he would have been able to talk to easily – which he had – and never had he thought it would lead on a wild goose chase, first from woodlice to long lost siblings. The conversation had left something inside of him which had been squashed out before, but had now relit, a tiny spark in a pressing blackness; now it needed tending to, to grow and bloom into a fire.

Hope.

Hope that he, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn and countless other could be redeemed and forgiven for their wrongs, forgiven for their past acts of wrong doing and for their sins. It was the one thing he sought now: forgiveness.

_I can do this, _he told himself.

_Together, _said Saphira's soft voice.

Eragon looked up to see the three dragons circling high above the city and he shielded his eyes from the sunset, gazing towards Saphira.

A fresh start, a new page, a blank canvas, turning over a new leaf; that was all he wanted.

To belong.

* * *

THE END.

Thanks for slogging through 240,000+ words. I have ideas for a sequel, but I'm not in an particular hurry to write it down, because I have school and originals I'm working on.

- BWD/aylithe


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